A Black Tomcat for the Demon
by Luke Danger
Summary: The symbolism of aces is hard to miss, but is it just mere symbolism, or is there more to it? In 2020, as the events of the Circum-Pacific War are to be completely declassified, Albert Genette speaks once more with those he told the story of ten years prior. They will tell the world the true story of the Ghosts of Razgriz. The story of the aces, and of the demon within.
1. Prologue: Ten Years Ago

"Ten years ago, had I been told that would be working with demons, I would have laughed at my boss so hard I'd be looking for a job clearing out the radiation on the Belkan border."

"Well, the universe has a grim sense of humor. And it loves proving us wrong."

Albert Genette smirked to the Belkan-Osean man sitting at the other side of the table. "Was that a pun?"

"Maybe," he admitted with a smirk. "But you know that saying about a grain of truth."

"No one believed them, but we always knew there was a reason for those stories. And why so many draw names from them." Albert shook his head. "But here we are in the aftermath of the Aurelian-Leasath War, and only now does everyone see just how wrong they were."

"Should we get started?"

Albert looked at the others in the room and nodded. He knew each and every person in the small room, the whole group of a half dozen men and two women. They had for ten years kept secrets from the world. And now, at long last, it was time to share them with the world. He reached for his new recorder at the center of the table and activated it. A holographic display appeared and acknowledged that the recording had started.

"Ten years ago, there was a war. The Circum-Pacific War. Today, it is merely known as the Belkan Conflict. There are many rumors surrounding the nature of this war. Why did it start? How come it ended so quickly? Vincent Harling and Seryozha Nikanor, who at the time were the President of Osea and Prime Minister of Yuktobania, respectively, suddenly reappeared before the world in Oured after months of intense fighting. And they declared an end to the war, then and there."

"But they also asked for their soldiers to now aid a small squadron of fighters rushing towards Sudentor, a city in the now independent South Belka. This squadron remains to this day a mystery to the public. No one knew who they were, or where they came from. All that was known back then and to the public at large today are stories from the battlefields in Yuktobania and Osea. Stories of four black F-14 Tomcats, diving into the fray, completing some objective, and then disappearing just as fast."

"Many skeptics argue that they were simply misidentified by the soldiers, citing a report from Eugene Yeller, who operated in the war as AWACS Thunderhead, and his claims that they appeared and disappeared from radar too quickly in a rather thorough report in regards to one of their missions in Osea."

The others in the room smirked proudly at that before he continued.

"As so some dismiss them as just a battlefield legend, or as a symbol manufactured to end the war drawn from mythology. And this logic is applied to other stories; Galm, Strigon, Garuda, Phoenix, Razgriz… they were all just names of old fairy tale creatures and mythological characters told to children. And, eventually, names given to the fighter squadrons of our day and age. The symbolism was not missed, but was often dismissed as chance."

"And while sometimes it was genuine chance, the theory subscribed to by much of the world at a practical level. But _they_ knew better. These myths of old were always lying in wait, patiently readying themselves for the right people to come. For the right people to listen in the shattered skies of our world as wars continued to erupt. And at the right moment, they pounced, and became part of willing hosts. Hosts who may not have known the full extent of what they had just consented to."

He could see the uncomfortable shift in some of the individuals around him as he took a moment to let the implication hang in the air for the recording.

"Both the Wardog Squadron and Ghosts of Razgriz are an enigma to this day. Many myths of their fate have surfaced in the years since the war ended. Some claim that the Wardogs did indeed die over the Ceres ocean and the Ghosts of Razgriz were nothing more than a coincidence."

"Others believe the shootdown was a ruse for Wardog to become said ghosts, that the entire thing had been staged by members of the OSDF to fight the silent coup d'etat that had happened.

"And then were are an oft-belittled few who maintain that Wardog Squadrons members were traitors while the Ghosts were a black ops unit who only formed afterwards, who stole their reputation for use as a cover."

"And some believe that the Ghosts of Razgriz are an element of the now known supernatural, the slain Wardogs returned to wreak justice on those who murdered them before returning to their rest."

Albert glanced towards the others, who were shaking their heads with various expressions of amusement, exasperation, and eye rolling. They had heard the many theories far too often, and knowing the truth only made them worse as they were dragged into those discussions.

"As all legends go," he continued, "there is a grain of truth in every telling, but having been there myself over the Ceres Ocean, the moment of utter uncertainty, I can attest to what happened." He paused, shivering uncomfortably as the somewhat hazy memories and feelings of fear came back.

"I now sit with members of both Wardog and the Ghosts of Razgriz. And today, as promised years ago by now former President Harling and former Prime Minister Nikanor, the curtain will be lifted. The war that began ten years ago will have all its events disclosed. This is the story of the Ghosts of Razgriz. Of the ace pilots, and the demon within them."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Ten Years Ago**

**September 23rd, 2010**

**1100 Hours**

**Cape Landers**

"You alright back there?"

"I'm okay," Albert Genette answered as he snapped the battery back into his camera in the cramped confines of the rear seat of the fighter jet he was in. "Just takes a little getting used to."

The pilot chuckled. "Just be glad that's all you have to worry about. If you were a nugget, I'd be drilling you about how to use a heads-up display to put the bullet in someone's fusela-" the pilot stopped and in a heartbeat his tone was angry. "Oi! Aero, loosen up, you trying to kiss the only lady up here?"

"_Sorry sir! Just trying to keep her steady in formation, that's all,"_ the trainee answered as he drifted his fighter away as he had held the formation too tightly.

"Save it for the ground. Or better yet, don't, we've got rules about fraternization." The pilot switched off his outbound microphone as another of the instructors began to talk about the workings of Sidewinder missiles. "Sorry," the pilot continued, "but sometimes you just have to yell at a kid."

"It's okay," Albert said. The pilot in front seat was none other than Jack "Heartbreak One" Bartlett, a veteran of the Belkan War who had fought alongside the Demon Lord himself and supposedly had been noted by the pilot for handling himself well. While the older pilot never answered the question and simply said that he had been shot down in the battle over area B7R - the so called 'Round Table' of Belka - the rumor persisted.

And now the veteran was passing on his knowledge, and Albert was there to write about it. He had been sent to Sand Island by his bosses in hopes of telling a story about how the Osean Self Defense Force was doing, and to see just how true President Harling's statements that the military was sufficient to defend Osea and did not need to be expanded to its pre-Belkan War levels to ensure security. And to see just who this fighter pilot was, this ace who was said to be able to take the greenest rookies and turn them into the fiercest of fighter pilots.

Albert was trying to get a look at the seventh jet in the formation with his camera when a loud buzz from Bartlett's radio interrupted him. _"Red alert!"_

"Oh gimme a break!" Bartlett groaned before he keyed his headset to respond. "Hey, we're babysitting nuggets up here!"

"_Sand Island Command to Wardog Squadron, we have leakers crossing the border to Cape Landers, bearing 278 to 304, altitude 7,000. Captain Bartlett, your flight is the only group able to make the intercept in time."_

_Well that certainly puts a damper on Harling's statement,_ Albert mused if they were stuck at throwing trainees at unknowns.

"Roger that," Bartlett said. "Okay, Baker, Svenson, you're my trail. All other aircraft, stay low and away from the fight. The three of us will do the intercept."

Which put the three trainers who actually knew how to fly into combat while the trainees - the so-called 'nuggets' in pilot parlance - were out of it.

But, Albert realized as the plane sharply pulled up to change course and his stomach turned inside out, it also put _him_ in the line of fire.

"Don't worry," Bartlett said as if he knew what he was about to ask, "I haven't been shot down since B7R. Not even when playing it light for the nuggets."

That did not reassure him as alarms suddenly screamed to life.

"_Missiles! BREAK!"_ a woman shouted suddenly.

"_Shit! The nuggets!"_ Svenson shouted.

"Angels and de… nuggets, get the hell back to Sand Island ASAP! If you get hit, bail out! _THAT'S AN ORDER_!" Bartlett screamed as he snapped into a dive and into the dogfight beginning in earnest.

The last thing Albert heard before he passed out was one of the trainees screaming before his voice was cut off with radio static, and Bartlett angrily shouting "Fox Two!"

XXXXXX

**1352 Hours**

**Sand Island - Main Runway**

"Sorry 'bout that," Bartlett said as they walked away from the jet, much to Albert's confusion . None of what had happened was his fault. The unidentified aircraft had fired without warning.

In fact, Albert had awoken in the middle of the dogfight, just awake enough to see the old captain doing everything in his power to protect his trainees - one of whom managed to defend herself quite well - as the air battle died down.

But to the far right, Albert also understood why Bartlett was apologizing. As a civilian, he was supposed to be nowhere near a live battle. Particularly a battle where only three jets survived. Bartlett's, of course, but also Svenson's jet which had been shot full of holes, and one of the trainees who had survived the ambush with only minor damage. But Svenson's jet crashed on landing and was still burning as the fire control crews tried to put it out, though Bartlett had called it on impact.

Yet as the last trainee of the day's sortie was tending to her jet, Albert understood what was eating away at Bartlett. He had told them to go low, to stay out of the way. But what he did not know was that the command room's inexperienced crew had misplaced zeros, and that lead the trainees directly into the unknown aircraft while the trainers were unable to respond first with their far higher altitude.

And because of that, eight people were now dead, most of them trainees.

"That pilot in the number seven jet was amazing, though," Albert said to try and guide the Captain towards something to be proud of, "did you see her fight back?"

"I couldn't bear to watch," Bartlett retorted as he paused and turned towards her. "Nagase!" he shouted as he pointed his helmet at her, "You keep flying like that and you'll die real soon!"

"I won't die, sir," she answered, her voice almost a whisper as Albert felt his jaw dropping in shock at Bartlett's cruelty.

"Are you sure?" Bartlett asked in disgust, "you look like you couldn't hurt a fly."

He waved his hand dismissively and walked away, leaving Albert wondering just what Bartlett was thinking. This woman, still in training, had defended herself against an ambush and had shot down one of the jets that was sent to kill her.

Albert's journalistic instinct took over, however, and he raised the camera. The missing spaces that had been filled with training jets just a few hours ago were not in the camera shot, only the single trainee who had survived to rejoin her fellows later that day. The pilot managed to crack a slight smile for the camera.

But even as he took the picture, how pale she looked gnawed away at him.

XXXXXXXX

**1402 Hours**

**Sand Island - Mess Hall**

"Hey, Nagase, talk to us! What happened out there?!"

The number twelve trainee pilot nominally, Mason 'Blaze' Lamb had been grounded that day along with the number three pilot, Alvin 'Chopper' Davenport, because of how the two had managed to dislodge their engine intakes during their last landing, and had to sit out the training sortie that day while the mechanics were running redundant tests to make sure the problem was fixed.

When they only saw three jets return, and one of them full of bullet holes belonging to an instructor crashing, they knew something had happened.

"We…" the only surviving trainee paused to swallow before answering. "We were ambushed. Unidentified fighters, and we flew right into them."

"Shit," Chopper said in horror as Mason's eyes went wide. "Who were they?"

"As she said, unidentified," another voice cut in and they turned to see Bartlett walking in angrily. "Don't bother snapping to attention you three," he added before any of them could.

"We got ambushed by a flight of Fulcrums, but who they were we don't know. Look, this is all classified, alright? We've got a briefing in two hours to discuss what happens next, but zip your lips. I've gotta go find that journalist before the colonel skewers him over the camera."

The two men moved to the side to let Bartlett pass. "Why would this be classified?" Mason asked.

Nagase shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that we're the only trainees left."

"Us and that new guy, Grimm. Pops hasn't even finished with him yet." Chopper elaborated. "I… just how? How did this happen? We were literally talking with them just this morning!"

"I don't know, I just don't know!" Nagase shouted as she pushed past them and towards the barracks. Mason moved forward when the other pilot put a hand out.

"Don't."

"Why?" Mason asked incredulously as he looked at the older trainee. "We're supposed to be the same squadron."

"Trust me," Chopper said with an usually serious tone, "when you see a bunch of people die, sometimes you need time alone first."

Mason was still staring towards the barracks as the other pilot moved on to the base's recreation room.

XXXXX

**1405 Hours**

**Sand Island - Crew Quarters**

Kei 'Edge' Nagase had not even taken her flight gear off before she had fallen into her bed, staring at the unused bunk above her. She had never been assigned a roommate - Osean regulations still forbid mix-gendered bunking, though only the Air Force obeyed those with regularity. The Army and Navy, with less room to argue with when performing their operations, ignored the regs as much as possible. She was not the only woman on the base, but all the other rooms had been filled, so she was assigned a new one.

But for once, the loneliness was not reassuring. It was no longer a break from being the only female trainee in the squadron and the occasional (usually joking) advances towards her by a bunch of bored out of their skulls pilots with nothing else to do. No longer a place to rest from Bartlett's tough but effective training and the well placed mockery he used to motivate people. And no longer a respite from Colonel Orson Perrault's weight as the rotund base commander liked to run Sand Island like a general from an era where Osean military discipline had decimation on the books.

But walls were never a shield from memories. She could still hear the screams of her fellow trainees as their planes exploded out from under them, as their voices were cut off mid-scream by radio static. The sheer terror racing through her as she desperately tried to apply what she had been taught. The panic in their instructor's voices as they dove in from being out of position.

She looked at the model of the Arkbird lying on the cabinet and smiled faintly. That bird of peace meant to clear out the remains of the asteroid Ulysses from orbit had lead her here. And she had survived to potentially go on towards it.

There was a knock on her door and she slid herself against the wall so she was sitting. "Who is it?"

"_It's me, Mason,"_ the man on the other side of the door say.

_What does Wardog's resident lamb want?_ she thought angrily. He was not up there, fighting for his life. He had been sitting here with their talkative git because they had screwed up the previous day. "What is it?"

"_I wanted to ask if you were okay. Dumb question, I know, but…."_

Despite herself, she had to smirk. Blaze, at least, had a sense of self awareness about his commentary. She shook her head. "I'm fine," she said. _Or as fine as I can be,_ she added silently.

Blaze seemed to pause before answering. _"Alright, but if you want to talk me and Chopper are going to be down with Pops to make sure we're ready."_

She simply shrugged as she heard his footsteps walk away from the door and she looked down at her hands. There was no blood on them, nor had there been blood on her gloves, but they still felt tight. She still felt her hands squeezing around the trigger that had released a pair of missiles to turn an enemy plane into a twisted heap of screaming metal.

Hands that had killed.

She had joined the military aware of the fact that she may have to go and kill people one day. That was part of the job - the duties - even if she intended to move on from it eventually, unlike pilots such as Bartlett. She knew that joining the military meant a rather likely occurrence of combat. Sure, the cold war between Osea and Yuktobania had been buried with the Belkan War, and the alliance formed in that war ensured that peace would remain in the foreseeable future, but she always knew there was a chance of conflict. Of Osea being asked to commit peacekeepers to an Assembly of Nations effort to combat civil war or to protect refugees from some conflict. She had joined willing to do so.

But today, to want to just kill someone in anger? To just snuff a life out with the flick of a button? She thought back to her home, her family. Her hopes and dreams. And what were those of the pilot she had killed today, those she had extinguished with a fireball at a thousand feet? Did he or she have something they hoped to achieve one day? Or maybe they just wanted to do something mundane like check their e-mail once they got back because they had forgotten to do so before their mission.

She was still thinking about these questions when Captain Bartlett came by to collect her for the debriefing.

XXXXXXXX

**1600 Hours**

**Sand Island - Briefing Room**

There were only five chairs filled today, compared to the normally full room. The trainees were scattered around, Bartlett noted as he leaned back in his chair to think about what to say. The two trainees who had been on the ground were sitting together, while the airman that Pops was training was sitting in the back corner trying to avoid everyone else's attention. Edge sat in the front row, looking at him intently, and Bartlett had to fight down guilt.

He was supposed to take these kids and turn them into pilots who could survive up there. And what did he have to show for it? Both of his fellow trainers dead and only four trainees. One of whom didn't even have a plane yet because he was still training with Pops in a Hawk training jet to learn basic maneuvers. And now he was supposed to tell them that they were Osea's first line of defense? Even with the three flying nuggets being his pick of the crop, it was still too soon to bring them out.

_Fucking penny pinchers,_ he thought. Sand Island was a forward outpost. Sure, it was remote, but the whole point of the base originally was to act as a screen against Yuktobania. Then when the Belkan War began, it turned into a trainee station because the Belkans would be unable to reach the area, and thus was safe. When the war ended, no one wanted to station a proper defense squadron there as the situation returned to normal. There was supposedly no need as the rivalry Osea had with Yuktobania never reignited.

Still. He had to lead them. He was the only one left on Sand Island who had been in a war. The only ace amongst them. With a sigh, he pushed himself back upright and leaned forward to look at them.

"I know you won't like this, but we're short on people. Starting tomorrow, you three are going to be sittin' alert with me," he nodded to Edge, Blaze, and Chopper. "Understood?"

"_Yes sir!_" they all answered.

He nodded and looked to the other man. "You'll be staying on the ground, at least until Pops is finished with you and we get new fighters in. Study hard and take in everything he says, we may need you soon."

The youngest trainee simply nodded as Bartlett continued.

"If we launch, I want you to stay glued to me, alright? I don't care what our bosses say, we are not going to split up for anything." He glanced towards the only woman in the room. "Nagase!" he barked out.

"Sir?" she asked, still dejected from the events earlier that day.

"You'll be flying number two on my wing. Gotta keep an eye on your or who knows what trouble you'll end up in," he said, trying to put some levity in his voice to raise the mood. She was still staring blankly at him as he turned to the other two.

"Chopper, you're still number three, and Blaze? You're on his wing as Wardog Four. Any questions?"

The room remained silent and he knew he had to say something. He could see it in Edge already and if they had another encounter, he was sure he would see it in the others too.

"Look, I know what you're thinking. '_But we're all trainees, we aren't ready yet!'_ No, you aren't. You're _never_ ready. No man or woman is ready to take the life of another human being. No one. None of you, not me, not the Demon Lord, not Mobius One, not anyone. How you deal with that, though, is up to you. Now then, go to bed early tonight. You'll have a long day tomorrow. Dismissed." He rose and nodded and the pilots began to disperse.

"Nagase!" he called out.

"Sir?" she asked as she turned to leave.

"Look, I'm sorry about earlier today," he said as the others left the room. "You did well defending yourself, but it's going to take more than a lucky break to survive out there, understood?"

"Yes sir," she answered automatically as she turned to face him.

"And about your kill… there is nothing wrong about wanting to kill someone because he or she is trying to kill you or your friends. That's normal. You are by no means a worse person for having killed today. Be concerned when you no longer care who is caught in the crossfire, or when you're willing to burn down your own side for the pay."

She perked up at the remarks, but simply nodded.

"Go on, you're on your own time now."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**End Chapter**

Author's Notes:

_- So, this is the first part of what I hope to be an interesting AU spin on the story Ace Combat fans know and love. Rather than the urban fantasy of AC5 being happening to fulfill the legend, what if they actually _are_ that legend? Though with fair warning, it will be starting mundane as far as missions go. The supernatural isn't known yet._

_- Also, while the premise is "the supernatural exists", I'm not going to handwave insane ammo counts or anything like that. Might have them carry more Gun than usual, but no recharging ammo unless it's a solar powered laser or something. So, things are going to be rescaled as needed._

_- I am aware that there were more pilots in the briefing room when Bartlett explains things, but they never showed up again and the story acts like the in-game squadron was all that was present, so I just ran with that.._

_- And yes, I gave Blaze an embarrassing last name. Well, there's a reason why it's never used, right?_


	2. Chapter 1: Wardog

"_Many pilots have been hailed as aces. Only a few have truly earned the title."_

- ISAF 1st Lieutenant Franklin Baelz, Interview (January 2nd, 2004)

**September 23rd, 2010**

**1800 Hours**

**Sand Island - Mess Hall**

Albert Genette sat a table away from the three rookie pilots of Wardog and took a moment to take in just who they were. He had been looking at the others throughout his first day, but now he only had these three trainees to report on, and he had to be able to get to them directly. His article on Sand Island now depended on his ability to tell their story, and he had no other trainees to fall back on if he could not.

The first of Wardog's pilots who who caught his eye was Nagase. Fair skinned and wearing her black hair short, she carried herself quietly. She was never one to boast like some of her now deceased squadmates had when he arrived, and she was certainly the smallest of the lot. Yet now, she was the only one of the three who had killed another person in an air-to-air battle, quite possibly the first Osean pilot who joined its military after the Belkan War to score a kill. He noticed her brown eyes looking towards him and he quickly turned his attention towards his notepad - the best he could make due with as Bartlett had taken his camera away in an effort to do so gently compared to how Perrault would do it.

As soon as he felt Nagase's gaze move away from him and back towards her food (which she had been making little progress on), his attention turned towards the man who was perhaps opposite to her in most ways. Like Nagase, Davenport had a light skin tone and black hair, but while Nagase's built was small and graceful, Davenport was built like a truck and he looked as if he had done manual labor for years. Davenport was laughing about some joke he made, which the last member of the trainees was simply shaking his head at.

Which brought him to Lamb - or, as the trainee prefered, 'Blaze'. How a man could be born with that embarrassing last name, he didn't know, only that the one person on the base who seemed to use it regularly over his callsign was the base commander. Like the others (and for the matter, a majority of Oseans), he had a light skin tone, though unlike the others his hair was brown and it was in a normal military buzz cut, whereas Chopper liked to leave enough hair on and let the helmet shape it. However, compared to his more muscular counterpart, Blaze's build was average if athletic. And left Albert wishing he had his camera - Blaze definitely would have been one to include in the article's cover image even before the other trainees were blown out of the sky earlier that day. He fit the public's image of a fighter pilot.

"Sorry about the camera," a voice cut in and he looked up to see Bartlett sitting down with his food.

"Why is this classified?" he asked incredulously. "I mean, you were all just attacked! Shouldn't this be in the news?"

"We don't report everything immediately," Bartlett explained with a shrug as he unfolded his napkin. "It takes time for the pencil pushers and snoops to figure out what happened. Dumb grunts like us? Just wait for them to tell us who to shoot and don't ask questions."

"But eight people are dead! There are now eight families who just lost someone close to them! We run reports on single deaths, this would be front page news!"

"And you completely gloss over casualty counts as they rise. One's a tragedy, a thousand's a statistic," the pilot answered with a growl. "Trust me, when this is all figured out I'm sure the press will have their share. The question will be if it will even be a blip in the political radar."

"I'm sure it will be," Albert answered as he leaned forward. "After all, General Lancer has been chiding the current administration about military preparedness with rather public displays. What happened today would be a massive talking point."

Bartlett snorted derisively. "He's an old has-been who misses the Belkan War when we were dropping JDAMs," he paused as Albert gave him a confused look, "sorry, '_Joint Direct Attack Munitions_', guided bombs, on our own windmills just in case there was a sniper there. There almost never was. So of course he's going to be saying we aren't in any shape to fight a war when we actually have some integrity now. But that's old news."

"So, no one is going to know?" he asked in disbelief as Bartlett began to eat. "Not even their families? They won't know how their sons or husbands died?"

Bartlett finished chewing before he answered. "Depends on what this is. Too early to be sure, but if it was some tragic misunderstanding chances are they'll get training accident bullshit. Perrault's real keen on keeping image good, so if the brass say it never happened, it was a training accident."

Albert wanted to say that he doubted that anyone would buy that, but he knew better. He was a reporter, after all. And making people buy bullshit was, for better or worse, one of the first things he had to learn to do no matter how much he found it distasteful.

XXXXXXXXX

**September 24th, 2010**

**0854 Hours**

**Sand Island - Briefing Room**

"At ease people," Colonel Orson Perrault ordered as he sat down in his chair, which briefly creaked in strain as his weight settled onto it. "But don't get comfortable. It's a grave situation for all of us right now. Let's get this briefing started."

He connected his computer to the briefing display, typed in his userID (island_king) and the system linked into the Osean Military Network. As the briefing screen initialized and briefly showed Grunder Industries' logo as part of the boot-up process before it switched to the OSDF emblem to load, he looked at the pilots with a disgusted look. This was his command? An old war horse who needed to learn to shut his mouth, and trainees who were greener than the grass snorted by the pacifist hippies outside November City?

As the briefing fully initialized, he adjusted the tactical map to their target area to the southeast of Sand Island. "This operation is codenamed _Lagoon_. Another aircraft of unknown origin penetrated our airspace at Cape Landers. As far as we know, it's a strategic recon plane at very high altitude. We attempted to warn it off, but it continued into our Air Defense Engagement Zone and was struck by surface to air missiles."

He adjusted the tactical display to show a topographic map and the four jets in the formation going up - Bartlett's F-4G Phantom II and the trainees' three F-5E Tiger IIs - and their target. He saw the distraught looks on the trainees' faces as they realized it was an SR-71 Blackbird they were going after. Their jets were not able to get high enough.

"Now before you whine about your jets, the target has been damaged and is losing altitude according to our coastal defense net. It is attempting to egress and go down feet wet in international waters. Your job is to make it land at a friendly airfield so we can ID the plane and interrogate the pilot." Orson looked at them. "Also, you will be operating under an Airborne Warning and Control System craft for this mission. The main operator for the craft is Eugene Yeller, callsign Thunderhead. Obey his orders the way you obey mine."

"Any special rules of engagement?" Bartlett asked.

"Do not fire until told otherwise. We don't know who we're shooting at."

The veteran grumbled something angrily but remained seated. "Now then, get out there Wardog!" Orson barked at them. "Dismissed!"

XXXXXX

**0905 Hours**

**Sand Island - Hanger A**

"Captain," Mason said as they walked into the hanger. "What are we arming with?"

"Full rack of Sidewinders," Bartlett answered. "One for both of your launch rails and four in the other hardpoints. I'll go up with four of those and four Sparrows. Should be enough firepower."

"What if a ship shows up, though?" Chopper asked.

Mason raised an eyebrow in surprise. Why would they run into enemy ships? The whole mission was to occur in Osean waters.

"Designations on missiles just mean what's optimal, not what you can actually shoot at. You can still fire a Sidewinder at a tank if you had to," the trainer retorted as he shook his head before pausing and giving them a serious look. "Don't actually fire a Sidewinder at a tank unless you're just trying to scare its crew shitless so the ground pounders can get a rocket launcher up, though. You won't punch through."

"Captain?" a portly mechanic asked as he walked up.

"Full air-to-air, Pops, mixed for me and Sidewinders for the nuggets," Bartlett explained and the mechanic nodded, heading off to tell the crews how arm their planes as Bartlett turned back to his trainees. "Now then, we're working with an AWACS today. Thunderhead's probably going to be greener than you lot, so follow my lead over his if he panics."

"Yes sir," Mason answered as he saluted.

"Also, Kid?"

"Yes?" Mason answered to the other nickname that Bartlett used for him.

"You're on trail. Try not to breath my fumes, alright?" The old pilot chuckled and walked off to his plane.

"He's in a good mood," Chopper noted in surprise. "I mean, with what happened yesterday…" Nagase shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry," Chopper added, "It's just… with everything that happened, I thought he'd be different today."

"He's a veteran," she finally said. "He probably dealt with all this daily back in the war."

"Probably," Mason answered grimly as he looked towards the older pilot as he was muttering something at his 'nugget trainer'. Given that the journalist was staying on the ground, he had expected Bartlett to go up in his own F-5E Tiger II rather than the Phantom.

As the planes were fueled and armed, the nuggets climbed into their planes and began the preflight checklists. Mason noted that their full air-to-air armament was nicely balanced. Six Sidewinders, medium ranged missiles ideally suited for engaging other aircraft. Heat seeking fire-and-forget missiles, they required very little attention once launched, unlike Bartlett if he chose to use his Sparrows. Those missiles required additional radar guidance from the launching plane, forcing Bartlett to keep his fighter in line with his target. An AWACS or other electronic support aircraft would help with it, but it still needed additional guidance from somewhere and AWACS craft were usually too far for that kind of electronic support.

But with an even distribution of weight, he would need minimal corrections while flying and the load was not heavy enough to significantly hinder the jet's maneuverability. Mason began running down the pre-flight checklist and made a mental note to thank Pops and the other mechanics later for fixing up his engine. _And this is why they give us nuggets outdated crap,_ he thought. That way if they crashed a jet from the fifties, the military didn't have to spend the inordinate amount of money it took to replace a current generation jet like the F-22 Raptor.

"_Wardog, launch!"_ Bartlett called after they all checked in and the tower gave them clearance.

XXXXXXXX

**1101 Hours**

**Cape Landers**

"_This is Heartbreak One to Thunderhead, Wardog is in position. We are approaching the target."_

"_Airborne Warning and Control System Thunderhead copies. Continue approach and bring the target to the ground. Do not fire at the target. _Repeat_, do not fire at the target."_

Mason nodded silently to himself as he kept his Tiger II in behind the rest of the group. _Simple mission,_ he told himself. Blackbirds were unarmed, so if it was hostile none of them would get shot down.

"_You got that nuggets?"_ Bartlett asked over the radio.

"_Wardog Two, roger,"_ Edge answered.

"_Wardog Three, roger,"_ Chopper added.

"Wardog Four, roger," Mason said as he paused. "Wardog One, question."

"_What is it?"_

"Don't we have any other coastal bases? Seems a bit odd that we're the only jets they could scramble," he asked as the thought occurred to him. It had been a two hour flight time; surely there was a closer base.

"_Hey, quit your whining, I thought you were going career,"_ Bartlett chided gently. _"But for your information, air bases cover a lot of ground. These aren't slowass Abrams that only get sixty-five miles an hour at full tilt. So get used to it."_

"Wardog Four copies," he answered and let the matter drop.

"_Wow, glad Blaze drew the short straw instead of me,"_ Chopper commented.

"_Second Lieutenant Davenport, you need a new nickname?"_ Mason could almost hear Bartlett rolling his eyes. _"I'm not sure if 'Chopper' fits you very well."_

"_You haven't seen me in a lumberyard,"_ the older trainee answered. _"Though I'm afraid I may be unable to respond to any other moniker."_

_Classy,_ Mason thought as he rolled his eyes. The only upside was that as far as he knew, Chopper had no intent of going career like he did.

"_I'll take your word for it,"_ Bartlett said dully, _"and it does fit you well enough. But I'll keep the name I'd give you to myself, okay?"_

"_Aw cut me some slack, man!"_ Chopper groaned.

"_Tally ho on the target,"_ Edge reported and Mason nodded to himself. 'Tally-ho', which despite its origin was not just something taken from North Point because it sounded snotty or elite, it actually had a meaning. Something was spotted. Opposite of 'no joy', nothing in sight.

"_Alright, follow me!"_ Bartlett ordered and they turned to a lazy yaw to the right to intercept.

"_Thunderhead to Wardog: Weapons safe at all times. Understood?"_

"Wardog 4 to Thunderhead; what if we're attacked?" he asked as yesterday's events crept into mind.

"_Hold fire until told otherwise, Second Lieutenant Lamb,"_ Thunderhead answered.

Mason bristled at the last name drop. "Blaze, Ten-Four." Loud and clear.

"_Okay, where's Motormouth Chopper?"_ Bartlett asked as they approached the Blackbird and it was clear how damaged it had been.

"_Whaaaa?"_ Chopper asked in surprise, leading to a brief laugh from Edge and Mason, _"_That_ was your call sign for me? Motormouth?!"_

"_You've got a knack for comic dialogue,"_ the flight lead answered without missing a beat. _"Why don't you send the surrender request?"_

"_Oh no, age before beauty,"_ Chopper retorted.

_Just shut up already,_ Mason thought irritably. It was funny the first few times, but now he was wondering if Chopper took being a fighter pilot seriously at all as the two began to trade wit back and forth.

Mason, much as he liked Chopper otherwise, considered him an example of what was wrong with most of the OSDF's new recruits. The aftermath of the Belkan War and Osea's sudden switch to pacifism had turned an entire generation into those who saw the military as a bygone relic. A piece of the past that had to be expunged from their culture. As a result, most of those who joined did so intending to go on to college. Some took it seriously - he always appreciated that fact about Edge - but others treated it like a part-time job at a fast food place with an overzealous manager.

"_Alright,"_ Chopper said finally as Bartlett talked him into it as they were getting too close to the Blackbird for comfort. _"Testing, testing… uh, attention unidentified aircraft, set your course for our beacon immediately."_

"_Good,"_ the flight lead said. _"Take notes, kids."_

"_Uh,"_ Chopper mumbled before continuing as they turned down their thrust to avoid hitting the Blackbird, _"We will direct you to the nearest airfield where you will make a landing. Lower your landing gear if you understand."_

They waited for a minute as the Blackbird continued its descent towards international waters. "Wardog Four to Wardog Lead; try a different frequency?"

"_Worth a shot, do it again Wardog Three. The rest of you keep your eyes on radar."_

They waited again as Chopper repeated the message, but the Blackbird continued to ignore them. Then it happened. Thunderhead's voice cut in loud and clear.

"_Warning! Four unknown bogies inbound at high speed! Approaching unknown aircraft coming at bearing Two-Eight-Zero, altitude 6,000 feet!"_

Two-Eight-Zero? From the west? "Wait a second, the only thing from Two-Eight-Zero is…"

"_Yeah,"_ Bartlett answered with a hint of admiration. _"And they just flew across the pond to cover their recon plane. Those are pilots worth their wings."_

"_Hold fire until further orders._ Repeat_, hold fire until instructed otherwise!"_ Thunderhead ordered.

"_Form on me, forget the Blackbird,"_ Wardog Lead ordered and they began to climb up in altitude to meet them, _"We're going to ward them off now before they get any closer to our mainland."_

"_Captain,"_ Edge asked, _"should we arm?"_

"_Negative, all of you,"_ Bartlett responded. _"And no target locks until I give the word, understand? This is a game of chicken, that's all."_

"Sir," Mason added, "this is exactly what happened yesterday. If they fire…"

"_Trust me, Kid,"_ Bartlett said. _"We can see them this time. Check your radars."_

Mason nodded. "Blaze copies."

The four jets reached six thousand feet and were on a direct course to intercept the unknown aircraft. As they got closer, Bartlett activated his radio on an open channel. _"Attention unidentified aircraft, this is Heartbreak One, Osean Air Defense Forces. You are approaching Osean Federation airspace. Declare your intentions immediately or withdraw."_

Mason looked down as his radar beeped and the unknown bogies were identified - or at least their planes were. MiG-21bis Fishbed fighters. _Someone got those out of a scrap yard,_ he noted. They were practically the Yuktobanian equivalent of the F-5E; mostly given to trainees at this point if even used at all.

Which raised an even more disturbing question as they approached each other. If MiG-29 Fulcrums had been used to attack them yesterday, why only Fishbeds now?

"_No answer,"_ Edge reported. _"Captain, orders?"_

Suddenly, alarms went off and Wardog broke formation just in time as missiles shot towards them, and a moment later one missile shot back and hit the Fishbed's flight lead and sent the fighter tumbling into the ocean below.

"_Heartbreak One engaged and Fox One!"_

"_YOU FIRED WITHOUT PERMISSION?!"_ Thunderhead screamed angrily. _"Wardog, I said Weapons Safe damnit! What part didn't you understand?!"_

"They're firing live missiles at us!" Mason shouted back as he snapped his fighter into a roll and got behind a fighter going for Bartlett. "Blaze engaging!"

"_Edge engaging!"_

"_Chopper engaging!"_

Thunderhead paused as Blaze fired his guns. Missing, but the enemy fighter disengaged from chasing Bartlett. _"Thunderhead copies. Captain Bartlett, be aware that this is violation of direct orders."_

"_Shove it, greenhorn! I'm not watching any more of my pilots die!"_ Bartlett shouted as Mason noticed his plane's warning alarm going off and turned left into a dive as the Fishbed he had gotten off Bartlett was on his tail. _"Kid, break right!"_

He did so and Bartlett fired one of his Sidewinders at the Fishbed, forcing it to try and evade. At least try to evade before the missile, fired at an arc that lead the fighter it targeted, hit on the nose and blew the Fishbed out of the skies. The only thing that remained of it afterwards was twisting metal and flames as the shrapnel tore into the airframe.

"Thank you, Captain!" he answered as Edge and Chopper had the other two locked in turns trying to get a lock on the other fighters, but they were the ones now being chased.

"_Four more bogies inbound, three Fishbeds and an unknown with an unusual IFF!"_ Thunderhead warned. _"Wardog Two, enemy radar spike!"_

"_Wilco!"_ Edge answered as a missile fired but undershot her plane as she pulled up hard as it closed in. _"Missile evaded!"_

"_Okay Kid, we're going to shoot down all the bad guys, got it?"_ Bartlett asked.

"Copy that," Blaze answered as the two hurried towards where Edge and Chopper were. He went for the one after Chopper while Bartlett went for the one that was on Edge's tail. His radar beeped as he had a lock-on and he squeezed the trigger. "Blaze, Fox Two!"

The Sidewinder launched from his plane's left rail and shot forward, but the MiG reacted in time and managed to avoid the missile by pulling off a snap roll. The missile overshot into the distance and eventually fizzled out as the MiG separated from the dogfight, speeding away from the two nuggets.

"_Thanks man,"_ Chopper said as Bartlett took out the MiG chasing Edge. _"Dogfighting sucks, you know?"_

"Not yet," Mason answered with an eye roll as he turned to chase the MiG. "Come on, we've got more coming!"

"_Hey, you're my wingman!"_ Chopper said in surprise. _"Follow me!"_

Mason opened his mouth to retort but shut it and simply let Chopper take the lead as they went for the last MiG that had its tail turned to them, only for it to explode as a missile crashed into it, dead center and splitting the plane in half.

"_Nice shot, Edge. You guys okay?"_ Bartlett asked as Mason could see the other two planes. _"We got separated back there."_

"_This is Edge, no damage."_

"_We're good,"_ Chopper added before Mason could report in. _"But couldn't we of taken that kill? I could've, you know."_

"_Thunderhead to Wardog, direct message from Sand Island Command: Weapons Safe."_ Though it sounded to Mason like Thunderhead was just going by the book.

"_Oh come on!"_ Chopper complained angrily, _"They're not firing blanks out here!"_

"_Shut up and form on me, let's see if the other group is hostile,"_ Bartlett chided as they regrouped and the second flight came into range. _"What the - shit. Wardog, do not engage the Hawk under any circumstances! Leave the Hawk to me: I repeat, leave the Hawk to me!"_

"Hawk?" Mason asked incredulously as he checked his radar and saw the unknown Thunderhead had mentioned earlier. A _Hawk trainer jet_.

"_Are you shitting me?! Who was dumb enough to fly that here?!"_ Edge asked in blank shock.

"_There's only one ace that I know of who uses a Hawk regularly,"_ Bartlett growled. _"Thunderhead, keep an eye on that Hawk."_

"_Roger, Wardog Leader. I'm tracking the unknowns now and will attempt to provide enemy missile lock warnings."_

"_Good. Wardog Leader switching to open channel. Attention inbound aircraft, you are entering Osean airspace. Declare intentions immediately! I have you on radar, Gigantor, so don't try to hide."_

A voice with a thick accent answered. _"Heartbreak One, is it? Let's see if it's bleeding or shattered."_

"_I think they're hostile,"_ Chopper said with a horrified deadpan.

"_Weapons safe until confirmed,"_ Thunderhead warned. _"This is…. good grief this is getting way out of hand! Try to avoid further hostilities, understood?"_

"_We'll try,"_ the Osean flight lead answered dryly.

"_Wardog, you're being spiked by enemy-"_

Their cockpit alarms went off and Bartlett cut the AWACS off. _"Wardog, break!"_

They all broke into different directions as the enemy planes opened fire and Bartlett fired another missile quickly, aiming for the Hawk.

"_... bandits confirmed hostile,"_ Thunderhead said uneasily. _"Wardog, attempt to drive them off but do not pursue if they disengage. Enemy planes are breaking formation to engage you!"_

As soon as the initial pass was over, Wardog found itself at a disadvantage. One MiG had gone for each of the trainees, while the Hawk had gone straight for Bartlett and the two aces were locked in a dogfight.

"_Nuggets, stick to the fundamentals and don't get creative!"_ Bartlett shouted as Mason found himself pressed against his seat as he pulled a tight turn to try and make the MiG after him overshoot.

_Fundamentals, fundamentals,_ he thought as he glanced at the craft behind him and kept evading side to side to try and prevent another targeting lock. The enemy pilot had switched to guns, but had not made a hit yet. Mason broke hard to the right as the Hawk and Bartlett's Phantom shot by, the Hawk chasing Bartlett, but he put it to the side for the moment.

"_Kid, break left and decelerate!_" Bartlett shouted and he did so immediately. The MiG, in the middle of its own turn to match his, shot past his right. _"Kid, guns!"_ Bartlett shouted.

He didn't think, he just squeezed the trigger and two streams of bullets shot out from the nose of his fighter with a loud buzz, ripping into the MiG's left wing. The plane wobbled before he fired again, hitting its engines and causing the fuel line to rupture and the exhaust from the plane's engines caused it to ignite and the plane went down trailing smoke the whole way.

"_Good job!"_ Bartlett said as Mason glanced up to see him pull a corkscrew turn that caused the Hawk to miss a turn. _"Now help the others!"_

"_Edge, Fox Two!"_

Mason looked up and saw that Edge had managed to evade her pursuer long enough to fire a missile at the plane chasing Chopper, who broke off from Wardog's number three to avoid it, diving towards the ocean.

"_Man, I feel like they're all coming after me!"_ Chopper moaned.

"Edge just got the one on you to break!" Mason shouted as he shot towards the disengaged fighter and got a lock. "Blaze, Fox Two!"

The Sidewinder shot out and intercepted the enemy plane as it tried to pull up before it reached a terminal velocity, likely hoping to re-engage. The missile exploded on the nose and what was left of the plane continued to fly for a few moments before falling below, nose still pointed upwards.

"_Missile hit!"_ Thunderhead confirmed. _"Blaze splashed one!"_

"_Nice shot, wingman,"_ Chopper said as the two turned towards Edge's attacker.

"Remind me to thank Edge later," he retorted. After all, she had scared it to where he could get the kill.

"_Kid, use your guns to herd them into Motormouth's missiles!"_

"_Works for me!"_ Chopper said.

"I'll aim high. Edge?"

"_Got it!"_ she answered as she pulled around towards them. As she shot past, Mason squeezed the trigger, aiming high. The enemy pilot dove, and Chopper aimed his craft down ahead of it and fired a missile.

The Sidewinder launched from Chopper's left rail and went after the enemy plane, but overshot as the plane increased the depth of its dive. _"Damn it!"_ Chopper said in disappointment.

"_Edge, dive and guns!"_ Bartlett called out and Mason only had enough time as he turned around to pursue to see the other F-5E diving after its former pursuer and ripping into it with the guns.

"Confirmed kill for Edge!" Mason called as the Fishbed went into an uncontrolled dive towards the ocean, the center fuselage full of holes and burning up.

"_Thank you,"_ she said uneasily as the three leveled their planes and remained on their flight paths, Edge alone and the wingmen together.

"_Whoa, Cap, that Hawk's giving you trouble. You okay?"_ Chopper said and Mason had to admit, the motormouth was right. This ace was managing to stay out of Heartbreak One's missile fire. And since Phantoms lacked guns, missiles was all he had and he was down to his Sparrows.

"_Trust me on this and stay out of it, he's a top ace! Edge, take the squadron to the Blackbird. You two are on her wing."_

"Yes sir!" Mason answered. The three had formed up - Edge in the center of the formation with Mason to her left and Chopper to her right - when a voice cut in over the open channel.

"_So, your trainees aren't so bad after all."_ It was the enemy ace. _"Let's see if they're ready for a real pilot."_

"_Enemy Hawk targeting Wardogs Two to Four!"_ Thunderhead warned.

"_Break, break!"_ Edge ordered and the three trainees each went in a separate direction as the Hawk shot towards them, Bartlett in hot pursuit. Mason shot and Edge both shot to their left, climbing. He swore as the two nearly crashed, both disengaging their turns just in time.

"_Sorry!"_ Edge shouted as she dove.

"It's okay!" he added as he said as he leveled off. _Okay, that was my bad,_ he noted. He should have dived instead.

"_Okay, we need a plan here!"_ Chopper shouted. _"Oh come on he's going for me!"_

"_That's because you're the only one this asshole can hear! Now start weaving!"_

_Captain has a point,_ Mason noted as he and Edge turned towards the Hawk that was going for Chopper, coming in from above and below respectively.

"_Wardog Three, enemy radar spike!"_ Thunderhead warned.

"_Radar spike?!"_ Chopper shouted as he dove down. _"He knows where I…"_

"_Enemy missile! Jink!"_ Bartlett shouted as Hawk released a missile and it exploded as Chopper turned away from it, obscuring Chopper from view. _"Chopper, come in!" _

_Don't be dead don't be dead don't be dead…_ Mason hoped desperately as he saw Chopper's fighter flying past the explosion.

"_My only regret… is not flying with a Captain who has a sunnier disposition!"_ Chopper shouted as he kept diving, wings scarred with black marks, the right wing damaged with the launch rail completely broken off, along with the missile it had.

"_Shut up and keep flying, Motormouth!"_ Bartlett chided, though it was clear that he was not angry and Mason sighed in relief. _"Edge, Kid, go wide and get some locks in. Fire as you can."_

"Roger," Mason acknowledged. "Edge, which side you want?"

"_I'll go left,"_ she answered and he nodded, the two adjusting the courses and bringing in their planes to lock on to the enemy aircraft. The Hawk dodged and jinked as the three planes came in on its tail, but the pilot was still after Chopper in spite of this.

"_Man, my hands are _numb!_" _Chopper said in horror as he continued to weave. _"I don't even have time to be afraid!"_

"_We've got your back, keep dodging!"_ Edge shouted as she fired her guns to try and ward off the enemy ace, but the ace dodged and swung under her burst.

"_Wardog One, you have radar lock-on!"_ Thunderhead said and a missile shot out from Bartlett's jet. It weaved directly towards the enemy plane, launched ahead and Bartlett kept his angle with the Hawk.

A moment later, the missile slammed into the Hawk's cockpit, sending the grey painted trainer jet tumbling into the ocean with no control and no time for the enemy ace to bail out.

"_Fox One,"_ Bartlett said with a sense of finality as he pulled away from maintaining course with his target.

"_All unknown bogies down,"_ Thunderhead confirmed. _"Picture clear."_

"_Wardog Squadron, this is your captain speaking. Everyone radio in. Can you hear me?"_

"_Wardog Two, roger,"_ Edge reported in as she sighed in relief.

"_Wardog Three here. I'm alive… I think."_

Mason checked radar and noticed that the Blackbird had splashed. _What a shame,_ he mused. They were marvelous pieces of engineering.

"_Wardog Four, hello?"_ Bartlett asked. _"Mary's Little Lamb here?"_

_Really?_ Mason thought in annoyance before he keyed his radio. "Wardog Four cannot hear Captain Jack 'Heartbroken' Bartlett."

"_Hey, that means you can hear me!"_ Bartlett said as he chuckled. _"Your humor needs some extra training, but it's acceptable. Everyone form up, the Blackbird splashed and the Coast Guard's sending out a few ships to try and get to it."_

"_Captain, Wardog Three. Who was that guy in the Hawk?"_

"_An Ustio fighter pilot, callsign Gigantor. He was one of the few regulars left when the Belkans hit in ninety-five and well, that jet should show you how bad they were supply wise,"_ Bartlett explained. _"He became an ace-for-hire after the war. So he might of just been paid for this job. Either way though, you three did well. So, that's two kills for Blaze and two more for Edge. I wonder which one will be the first Osean ace since the Belkan War? The lady with the trifecta or the guy who got double her first dogfight score?"_

"_Let's hope that neither of us get the opportunity to try,"_ Edge answered uncomfortably.

"Something tells me that's wishful thinking, Edge," Mason responded. He didn't join the military for the glory, but he had to admit, being the first ace in the Osean Air Defense Forces since the Belkan War had an amount of appeal to it. If only because it would be good for a chance to get posted to somewhere he could do something useful rather than the middle of the nation where he would do nothing but proficiency tests and drills.

"_Anyways,"_ their flight lead continued, _"Thunderhead, we needed out here anymore?"_

"_Negative, your task is done. Return to base."_ Thunderhead answered. _"Also uh, I just got a wire. Order E0111207 issued by Osean Air Defense Force Central Command:"_

High command was involved? _Well, shit just got real,_ Mason noted. High Command liked to remain as hands off as possible.

"_To all Sand Island personnel,_" Thunderhead began to read, _"All information regarding today's events are classified until further notice. Also, Captain Jack Bartlett is to report to West Coast OADF headquarters immediately."_

"_... roger that."_ Wardog Lead groaned as they flew back home, all alive and with only damage on Chopper's fighter and lighter weapon loads to show for their battle.

XXXXXXXXXX

**1705 Hours**

**Sand Island - Hanger B**

"Why do they even bother reprimanding me anymore?" Bartlett asked as Chopper was playing with his dog, Kirk, out on the runway.

"Hmm?" Albert asked as he looked up.

"I know I'm going to be stuck at Captain forever," the veteran ace continued. "So why they're having me fly off to to the mainland so Lieutenant-Colonel Ford can scream at me over the dogfight earlier is beyond me."

The journalist frowned. That seemed incredibly stupid - Sand Island was being struck at and they sent the only fully trained pilot back to the mainland to be yelled at? When he saw Bartlett taking off shortly after Wardog returned, he had thought that it was just to do a combat air patrol or check something out while the trainees had their planes repaired and rearmed.

"Who do you think is covering up the battle?" he finally asked.

"Listen, the only thing across that ocean is Mirska Air Force Base. That's Yuktobanian territory." Bartlett answered. "And the MiG series are one of their go-to options since their factories supply most of them. So unless ISAF or some Estovakians are being stupidly cute and long distance, they're the only ones who could be behind these attacks."

"But haven't we been allies with them since the Belkan War?" he asked in confusion, as neither of the other polities named could have any interest in picking a fight with Osea. Especially with Estovakia mired in civil war. "I mean, we had the whole Cold War beforehand, but that vanished the moment the Belkans started invading Ustio."

"Yeah, that's why we have people working their butts off upstairs trying to figure out what the hell is going on over there," he explained as Blaze caught the frisbee that Chopper had been throwing, getting tackled by Kirk for his trouble. "I bet they've got hotlines ringing non-stop somewhere upstairs. The government doesn't want to get the public riled up yet. I mean, you saw how close Sapin was to invading the Nordlands after that bombing in Gran Rudigo two years ago."

Albert nodded as he remembered covering that story. "And if rumors start going around that Yuktobania is murdering our trainees, it might lead to an unnecessary showdown between the world superpowers."

"Well unless Lamb over there shoots down Mobius One, I don't think ISAF is too likely to get involved. They're not one nation, but with their combined strength I'd give them good odds against Osea or Yuktobania. I'd call them a superpower." The old ace paused, watching as Blaze dusted himself off and walked back towards the barracks as if he was seriously considering the young pilot's chances against the legendary Ribbon.

_Now that would be a story to cover,_ Albert thought in amusement before dismissing it as unlikely. The best ace of Erusea couldn't kill the ISAF ace, what chance was a nugget going to have?

"Still, none of it really matters," the pilot said as he sighed angrily. "Dumb grunts like us, we shut up and do what we're told. No need to think for ourselves." He paused and gave a slight smile as he looked down towards him. "I actually feel kinda bad for you. I mean, you're stuck here."

Albert scoffed. "It's okay, I get to be here with you guys." It was true to a degree. He was still going to get his story. But he had to admit, no internet access and the only contact with his bosses back in Oured was through written letters that were censored by Colonel Perrault himself. He was imprisoned in all but a legal arrest on this island.

"The captain's probably hating this more than anybody," someone else said and Albert turned to see another man walking up from the hanger. The mechanic, Peter 'Pops' Beagle, a portly man who was clearly getting on in his years. Although his hairs were not grey, Albert knew it was because he used dye to keep his hair the same dark brown it had been when he was younger. However, most of his head hair had fallen off from balding. Compared to Bartlett, who was bad mouthed but otherwise good natured, the mechanic seemed to be just a jolly old fellow.

"What do you mean?" Albert finally asked, his journalistic curiosity stoked.

"He used to have a lady friend over in Yuktobania. During the war," Pops added as Albert gave a confused look.

"Ah, that's just an old war wound now," Bartlett said with a shrug, putting a hand over his heart. He was clearly smiling at whatever memories had been evoked from the mechanic's gentle reminder, but Albert immediately realized that this was not an angle he could press as he glanced back to the ace-of-hearts on the side of Bartlett's spare jet. He would need to find his answers elsewhere.

"By the way," the ace asked. "How do you feel about another trip in the Phantom tomorrow?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**End Chapter**

Author's Notes:

_- You may of noted that the intelligence officer isn't around. I'm omitting the briefing guy who actually gave the briefings in-game and instead shifting it to whoever the local commander is rather than just having Perrault just drop a plify one-liner and let the other guy do it all (though admittedly, that would be perfectly in character)._

_- Also note; I won't be using all the aces from AC5, but if I can find a way to use them, I won't hesitate to since Strangereal is a world of aces. Gigantor here was mostly just so there was a guy on par with Bartlett, plus just the idea of someone showing up in a Hawk early on and being able to take on Wardog somewhat successfully just fit for some reason._

_- Originally, this chapter and the prologue were one and the same. However, after some feedback I decided it was a good idea to split the two. Generally speaking, I don't intend for missions to take up the whole chapter. Some have to be rescaled just for logistics (no insane ammo counts), others can be played more in full. Some will probably be extremely brief in actual mission parts (Solitaire comes to mind) just from the nature of it._


	3. Chapter 2: Open War

"_Did you know there are three kinds of aces? Those who seek strength, those who live for pride, and those who can read the tide of battle. Those are the three."_

- Larry "Solo Wing Pixy" Foulke, Interview (November 11th, 2005)

**September 25th, 2010**

**1013 Hours**

**60 Miles Southeast of Sand Island**

"_Blaze, Edge, Chopper, you three with us?"_ Pops asked.

"Wardog Four in position," Mason answered from the cockpit. It felt odd, being in Captain Bartlett's Phantom. Even odder was that he was still in the trail position while their lead plane was a _Hawk_, of all aircraft, flown by Grimm. An _airman_ was the flight lead. If only because the instructor pilot was in said airman's back seat. After all, Pops was not finished with Grimm even though Bartlett wanted the pilot to get midair refueling training as soon as possible.

But even odder, at least to Mason, was the fact that he had a journalist behind him. He had half expected Colonel Perrault to countermand the decision Bartlett had made before Bartlett was forced to sit and listen to repeated lectures about rules of engagement that day. _In fairness,_ Mason had told himself when he found out, _we did engage without authorization._

"_Okay, air-to-air refueling is a critical skill that you should never underestimate,"_ Pops began as they could see the tanker craft on their radar. _"You have considerable flight range, but with tankers, your flight range can go from Comona Island to Gracemeria… through Osea. Of course, you know all this already."_

"_We did the homework,"_ Chopper retorted. _"Do we get a sticker for doing it?"_

Genette laughed from the back seat and Mason glanced back. It was odd, being in a two seater again. Even odder knowing that it just meant that he was the only pilot. Genette wouldn't know the throttle from the ejection system if he had to fly the plane. Fortunately, Bartlett's control scheme meant that Mason was the one who had full control over the plane, it was only given to the person in back when the main pilot gave their okay. And it could be seized back at any moment by the front seat.

"_No, but you can always help paint on the decals to Edge and Blaze's planes,"_ Pops retorted. They had not painted on their kills yet, and Edge had refused to allow Pops to add the Fulcrum from her first engagement two days ago.

_I need to talk to her about that,_ Mason thought briefly before pushing the thought aside. That was not his job, that was for Bartlett to do. He was just a fellow squadron member, it wasn't his responsibility to make sure the others were in shape.

"ETA to the tanker is two miles, Pops," he reported as he saw the KC-10 Extender on the radar.

"_Indeed, but we've got enough fuel to loiter and they're explicitly here for training. Don't worry though, these guys aren't new at the job."_

"_No we are not,"_ another voice, a woman's, cut in. _"Wardog Squadron this is the tanker aircraft Bovine. We're here to help get you acquainted with the procedures for refueling."_

"_Roger that Bovine,"_ Pops answered, _"This is Second Lieutenant Peter N Beagle, callsign 'Pops', standing in for Captain Bartlett."_

"_We heard,"_ Bovine's captain answered. _"Still, we've got enough drinks to go around. How does a nice bit of petro sound?"_

Genette gagged in the back seat as Pops answered. _"Sounds good. I'll connect first but do not release fuel, this is purely to show them how to do it. Grimm run all plane checks."_

"_Yes sir,"_ the trainee answered. A few moments later he reported the checks complete.

"_Good,"_ Pops said, _"My plane."_ The Hawk moved forward in the formation, approaching the tanker from behind as Pops took control. Bovine read out distance numbers as Pops gave an explanation.

"_The critical part about refueling is that you need to maintain constant speed,"_ Pops began. _"The tanker will have its speed set already. Your job is to match it. You have to give it a little more to connect, but once you've connected you have to keep it steady. When you approach, put yourself just a bit faster than the tanker, and then when you are almost in position ease off on the throttle."_

The Hawk was now in position to receive its refuel and the tanker extended its nozzle. _"When it connects, you should be at their speed. Then you maintain it until the drink is complete."_

"_We're connected."_ Bovine reported.

"_Good,"_ Pops acknowledged. _"Once they finish, they will disconnect. At this point, you need to ease off throttle and altitude to get away. Clear away immediately, and always go down. Never, under any circumstances, go up. Understood?"_

A chorus of affirmatives later, the Hawk was disconnected and returned to formation. _"Edge, you'll go first."_ Pops ordered.

"_Roger that. Bovine, I am making my approach."_

"_Good,"_ Bovine answered. _"Take it nice and slow, and don't worry if you can't do it right the first time."_

"So," Genette finally asked. "Blaze - it's okay if I call you that, right? I understand you prefer to avoid the last name."

"Blaze is fine," Mason answered as he felt his gut tightening. _Here it comes, getting interviewed… why now, in the air?_ He somehow felt like it had something to do with the 'Heartbroken' comment he had made to Bartlett at the end of the engagement yesterday.

Genette nodded. "So, why did you join?"

He paused to consider his answer as Edge came in too slow and had to come around for another pass. "Well, I do plan on going career," he began. "I always wanted to fly, but we've got way too many civilian pilots and my mother forbid me from becoming a freelancer for say, Ustio."

That had always confused him, why his mother was so strongly against him becoming a mercenary pilot. It wasn't like he had to go take morally questionable jobs - ISAF nation states had been using mercenaries for years to augment their flying forces with only the normal collateral damage from warfare.

"So military was your only option?"

"Nah," he said with a shrug, "but honestly, I'm okay with fighting battles." He paused as he realized the implications of what he just said as Edge was successful in connecting to the tanker craft. "I'd rather not have them happen, of course," he added.

"Of course," Genette said with a nod. "And don't worry, I'm not recording anything. This isn't a formal interview."

_Not reassuring,_ he thought as Pops told Chopper to have a go at it. "Right. So yeah. I joined as a career path."

"What inspired you to join? A lot of people look down on career officers, saying that war is in the past."

"So we said fifteen years ago," Mason retorted as he fought to avoid rolling his eyes. "Look at what happened five years ago to the east. It's how we got the Grim Reaper as a super ace to fanboy over." So fanboyed over, that the first day in basic had Mobius One's sorties over Comona Island as footage to show what air combat was like.

"Fair enough. Though, how did you get the nickname?"

"Have you ever seen ice on fire?"

Genette shook his head as Chopper was moving too fast and had to cut into a dive to avoid a collision. _"Careful, Chopper. Take it simple,"_ Pops chided.

"Yeah. Anyways," Mason said to move past that embarrassing incident. "I wanted to be up here because I'm coming in trying to be ready. I came into the military expecting to go into combat. Better someone who wants to be here fighting than have to rely on people who don't want to. That just destroys a military."

"So you're here because you want to keep Osea's defense strong."

"Exactly. No comment about the ongoing argument of how large we need to be, but regardless of size Osea needs someone to protect it. Maybe we need a massive conventional army, maybe we just need a basic self defense force. I'll let the guys upstairs decide. Me? I'm willing to fight to defend Osea and I wanted to fly. That's all that I need there."

"Rather simple," Genette noted as Chopper managed to connect his plane successfully.

"Yeah, and no offense but it's my turn next." He had to concentrate.

"Of course," the journalist said as he stopped talking. Mason was almost certain he was committing their conversation to memory right then and there.

"_Okay Blaze, bring her in nice and gentle,"_ Bovine ordered. _"Don't burn us all down, okay?"_

_Ha ha,_ he thought with an eye roll as he edged the throttle forward, hoping to glide it in nice and smooth. _Stick to the fundamentals,_ he reminded himself as Bovine's captain was counting down the distance.

"_Five hundred yards to go… four hundred yards to go… three hundred yards to go... two hundred yards to go…"_

Mason eased down on the throttle. _"One hundred yards to go… maintain current speed."_

He felt the light _thunk_ as the nozzle extended and connected to the refueling pipe. _"Good job,"_ Bovine said. _"Okay, prepare to disconnect…"_

"_Grimm, you're up next." _Pops ordered. _"Bovine, be aware that he's doing this early so pay extra attention. I'm in the back seat if needed."_

"_Roger that. Blaze, disconnect."_

Blaze nodded as the nozzle disconnected and he dropped the throttle all the way, letting the Phantom gently fall out of the sky before he brought the throttle back up and guided his plane to the right and returned to formation as the Hawk began a slow approach.

"So, anything else?" Blaze finally asked as he glanced back to Genette. "Tombstone data, maybe?"

The journalist chuckled. "Thank you, but I got that with the job package when I got sent here."

Mason wasn't sure whether to be creeped out that the military had sent that information to the press or glad that he wasn't going to be asking him for that stuff.

XXXXXX

**1248 Hours**

**Sand Island - Mess Hall**

Jack Bartlett groaned in the mess hall, face on the table.

"Captain?"

He glanced up to see Blaze taking a seat in front of him. "Ah, the Kid returns," he said with a smirk. "Everything went alright?"

"Yes sir. We managed to get through it two or three times each successfully before we came back. But sir, I have to ask…"

"Why did I put the journalist in the back seater with you?" He smirked for the first time that day. "Have a seat. And we're both off duty so don't worry about rank."

Blaze took his seat and Bartlett leaned forward over his mostly finished tray. "You're going career, Kid, and I've got every expectation that you'll go quite far. You'll have to deal with journalists at some point - no way to just brush them off."

"So you wanted me to get exposed to that early?"

"That, and he is writing an article on Wardog, so he does need to interview you guys at some point."

Blaze grumbled briefly but shrugged. "Alright, sir, fair enough. If I may, how was the reprimand?"

"The usual," he said as he shrugged. It had been Colonel Perrault yelling at him for a few hours with Hamilton occasionally adding some confirmation from the mission report but otherwise letting the oversized blowhard vent. "And like a good little dog I just sat there and took it."

"Well, we did engage without permission, though with a good reason."

Bartlett scoffed before smirking. "Well, at least you'll be more politically acceptable to the guys upstairs once this is all over. Maybe you'll have a good career after all."

"I hope so."

"Well, better go on, I'll be able to take you guys up in the air for a little dogfight practice tomorrow. Motormouth's going to need some."

Blaze stood and saluted. "Yes sir." Bartlett waved him away and waited a few moments.

"Oh, Kid?" he asked as he had turned away.

"Sir?" Blaze asked, stopping and turning around.

"Subordinates might have the wit, but superiors have the resources." He smirked as widely as he could as Blaze's face went from a confused look to a faint scowl.

"Yes sir," he said before walking off and Bartlett chuckled to himself. _Kid has potential,_ he thought with a smirk. _Loose enough to relate but not so loose that he'll end up like me._

XXXXX

**1323 Hours**

**Sand Island - Crew Quarters**

Kei glanced at the door as there was a knock. "It's open," she said and the journalist came in. "Genette?" she asked with a frown.

"Bad time?" he asked.

"No," she said as she closed her book and put it on the windowsill. "Let me guess, you want to ask some questions."

"That obvious?" he said with a faint smirk.

"Well, that's your job."

"Fair enough, and yes, I would."

She gestured to the chair lying by the bare wall. "Go ahead. It's a little hard, but it's a seat."

The journalist nodded, grabbing the chair and pulling it over before sitting down. "So, what would you like me to call you by? I know that Second Lieutenant Lamb prefers his callsign, but what about you?"

"Nagase is fine," Kei answered as she leaned back and wondered how much to share with the journalist. She did not want her life's story plastered on the news, but at the same time she felt like she had to share what it was like being thrown into combat. People needed to know what military action entailed.

Genette nodded. "So, Miss Nagase, why did you join the Air Defense Force?"

She gestured to her model of the Arkbird lying on the cabinet. "I've always been fascinated with space, and the Air Force does a lot of work in that area. Basset Space Center is technically under the the military's jurisdiction, after all."

"Inclined towards the sciences?" he asked. He had no notepad, but Kei could not shake the feeling that he was recording everything in his mind for later use or evaluation. To see what fit the story he wanted to tell.

"I'd like to study advanced physics and the like, that's true," she admitted cautiously. "But one step at a time. I need to do my service first."

"Of course, veteran's benefits and all. And still maintained after all the controversy of a military budget."

Kei shifted uncomfortably, but she felt like she shouldn't have. After all, he was just discussing part of the modern debate over the Osean Self Defense Forces - how much of a budget there should be. What benefits should be given to the soldiers who served. How big the military had to be, and what was the necessary standard issue to perform their duties.

"No comment," she finally said. "But I didn't join the military to kill people."

Genette paused, raising an eyebrow before schooling his face back to a neutral expression and nodding. "I understand. So, how did you get the nickname?"

"I spent enough of my spare time in the simulators that everyone said I was trying to get an 'edge' on the competition," she explained, air quoting her call sign and shaking her head. "No one said we were creative about it." Of course, her time in that had more or less ended thanks to Sand Island not having any and Colonel Perrault having no interest in what he considered 'dressed up video games'.

"Not a bad idea. It gives you a better chance to survive. I'd say it's paid off."

She stared at him coldly for a moment before reminding herself that he was not trying to take a shot at the dead. "Maybe it did, or maybe I was just lucky."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"I know," she said to cut him off. "But it's things like this that the public needs to be aware of when discussing what to do with the military, disarmament or increasing it's size."

Genette was about to say something when there was a knock. _"Nagase,"_ Blaze said. _"We just got called to the briefing room. Apparently Perrault decided to add us to his shit list."_

Kei groaned, but was unsurprised. "I'll be right out," she answered before turning back to Genette. "Sorry, but…"

"Duty calls," he said with a nod and stood up, offering a hand. "Sometime later, perhaps?"

"Maybe," she said with a shrug as she pushed herself up and shook.

XXXXXXX

**The Next Morning**

**September 26th**

**0814 Hours**

**Sand Island - Mess Hall**

"Lieutenant Davenport."

Chopper looked up and nodded as he saw the journalist walking up with his tray. "Hey; sorry you're stuck with us."

Genette shook his head as he sat down across from him. "It's okay, I'm here to write about you guys anyways."

"Well then," Chopper said as he reached for his fork and stuck it into one of the pieces of bacon on his plate, "ask away. And by the way, you can call me Chopper. Everyone does. Even me."

"Why? I mean, you have a name…"

"And that name was earned!" he stated proudly before biting down on the bacon.

"Alvin? How did you earn that?"

Chopper paused, looking at the journalist in surprise as he swallowed before he started laughing. "Nice. But seriously, I don't know why my mom named me Alvin. 'course, Blaze has it worse, but at least in school he could go by his first name no problem."

"I noticed that he prefers his callsign too."

"_Mary's little Lamb here?"_ The memory of Bartlett's attempt to get Blaze's attention caused Chopper to smile.

"Yeah, I don't blame him," he said before scarfing down the other piece of bacon as he saw Nagase taking a seat a few tables away. The mess hall was mostly empty as the later day personnel were taking in the precious extra time to sleep, while anyone who was on duty had already gotten moving. "So, what do you want to know?"

"How about why you joined the Air Force," Genette suggested. "And no, I'm not recording this."

"Right," Chopper said as he put his fork down and drank some of his coffee. "Well, I definitely skirt the edge of the age requirement, but I managed to squeeze it."

"Yes, I noticed that your date of birth was…"

"Yeah, I'm almost thirty. A little old to start fighter pilot training, but I got in."

"Why join so late? Surely you had a career lined up."

"Go ahead and start on your food while it's hot; it's going to take a while," Chopper said as he took a bite out of his toast before putting it down. "Y'see, I never wanted to go military originally. I went into the workforce right out of high school - wasn't the brightest, but I'm not stupid either and college just wasn't possible financially. And well, the horror of those nukes was still fairly fresh in everyone's mind back then."

Genette nodded slowly as he briefly put down his fork, "And when pacifism was starting to hit full swing as the Belkan War's military inertia faded."

"Exactly," Chopper said with a nod, "so, military didn't occur to me as I worked at one of those lumber factories a couple miles south of Oured. Grow 'em to cut 'em and mill 'em as well, no need to go through the natural forests. And yeah, that's where 'Chopper' came from. As I said, that name was earned. I was good at the job."

"So why change?"

"Because I wanted to do something more," he answered with a shrug. Good as he was, he knew he wouldn't be able to handle doing the same thing day in day out in the same couple square kilometers with the same trees. "But college was still too expensive to actually get a degree in something that'd get me out of that area. And well, the military still offers plenty of college benefits to those who do their tours. So I signed up, and went for the Air Force. That way if I miss, I can't go too far down, right?"

"Essentially, you didn't want to be an infantryman."

"Guilty as charged," he admitted with a shrug. "Besides, I'm making the cut rather well." He continued with his meal and sighed. "Man I wish they'd give bigger rations. But noooo, I need to have a proper BMI…"

Genette glanced at Chopper's arms briefly. "Uh, how overweight are you?"

"Not _that_ bad! I'm only eight-nine kilograms! Besides, they gave Edge extra!"

Genette glanced over and seemed to be seriously considering it as the only female pilot in Wardog was leaving the mess hall, having finished her breakfast while they had been talking. "Why is that anyways?"

Chopper paused as he realized where this had gone. _Man I'm glad she was out of earshot!_ he thought desperately as he decided to move this conversation on. "Hey man, you don't talk about a woman's weight. Though usually it's the other way around…" he shifted uncomfortably. "Eh, let's move on, shall we?"

Genette nodded. "Let's." Before he could ask another question, however, a silence fell over the mess hall and Chopper felt his spine tighten as he saw the friends that bad news had brought. Colonel Perrault, marching his oversized frame into the mess hall.

Flanked by two security guards.

"Well well," Perrault said as he stopped behind the journalist. "Haven't you been busy chatting up my pilots?"

"That's my job, Colonel," Genette retorted as he turned. "And Lieutenant Davenport is not currently on duty."

"Follow these gentlemen back to your room, and stay clear of all our operations until told otherwise. Don't think your little excursion yesterday escaped my notice. Consider yourself quarantined to quarters, you're too inquisitive for your own good." Perrault said simply and Chopper had to fight down a shot back.

_He's only doing his job_, Chopper thought in annoyance as Genette paused and glanced at his food. "Am I allowed to at least finish my breakfast, or are you sending me to my room immediately?"

Perrault scowled and Chopper knew that was the wrong question to ask - legitimate a question as it was. "Immediately, snoop. Take him away."

The two guards glanced at each other uneasily before one walked forward. "Right this way, Mister Genette," he said as the other one grabbed the tray and they left, leaving Chopper sitting there.

"What are you staring at, nugget?" Perrault snorted. "Hurry up and eat, you're a soldier not a teenager." With that, he turned and walked away.

XXXXXXX

**1313 Hours**

**Sand Island - Hangar A**

As Kei was checking her plane, she glanced towards where Blaze was working on his and sighed. He was painting on his kills from the previous day, two Fishbed silhouettes.

"Something wrong?" a voice asked and she turned to see Pops standing there.

"No," she said as she checked the left machine gun again, doing the additional post-flight checks that Bartlett had them do to become more familiar with their planes' internal mechanics.

"You still haven't painted on your kills, the Fulcrum or the Fishbeds," the portly mechanic asked as he stepped over and nodded. "And your guns are fine; I'll grease the gears later when I do the nightly checkup."

"Okay," she said as she shook her head. "And I don't want to put my kills on. What's the point of it anyways? To brag about how many lives we've ended?"

"Not every kill results in someone dying," Pops pointed out. "In fact, if they were counting your dogfights today, all three of you would be aces."

"And being sent to our families in petri dishes," she pointed out. Their dogfight training that day had been mostly free form and going after each other. One-on-one, two-on-two, one-on-two, and so on with constantly mixing teams. It ended with a free for all that Chopper had won by letting her and Blaze engage each other as Bartlett was instead refereeing or providing advice.

"True," the mechanic admitted as he closed the hatch to the machine gun's components and glanced towards the other pilots as they were checking theirs. "But you all came home fine. Aren't you proud of some of the things you managed to do up there?"

Kei paused, considering some of the dogfights. She certainly was proud of managing to actually get on Bartlett's tail and get him worried… though Blaze had cleared her off his six before she could actually finish the job. "But that's different. That was training, and yes maybe a little competition. This wasn't murdering each other. We all came home alive. And even if I managed to beat the Captain, I wouldn't paint a Phantom on my fuselage. It was just a training thing."

"That's right. But you've taken down three enemy fighters in just two missions, and before your training was formally finished. Do you realize how impressive that is?"

Kei paused. She had never put much thought into that. She had just been trying to defend herself. But he was right: as trainees, they had done far better than they had any right to be. "Yes, I do," she finally admitted.

"And you did so in live fire situations when they were trying to reduce you to a statistic in world history. And you made _them_ a statistic."

She recoiled. "I don't want to make anybody a statistic," she shot back coldly, "but I won't take pride in tearing apart families either."

Pops nodded. "Maybe. But you aren't the Demon Lord. The sight of the Wardog emblem on your fighter jet isn't going to cause a panic or get enemy jets to back off. But a fighter jet with kill paints on it… that'll draw people's attention and let them know that you're not a nugget who hasn't seen a fight. And the more kills on the side, the more intimidating you become. There's a reason why the term 'virgin' is still in Osean and Yuktobanian nomenclature for planes without kill markings on them."

"That's just as sexist to men as it is to women," she pointed out with a sigh.

"True, but then again there were Belkan women aces who put their own pin ups on." Pops smirked. "Fair is far, after all."

Her mind immediately went to the Belkan A-10 that had been captured and left at Heirerlark as a museum piece and smiled. "True," she admitted before wiping the smile off her face. "But that's a far cry from bragging about how many families you've taken a son, daughter, parent, or spouse from."

"But it is a mark of your skill," he said as he glanced towards Chopper's plane and sighed. "A pilot's choice of what they add to their plane always has a meaning. And why you put it on is more important than what you put on." He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. "Though, a lack of kills is a symbol too. And if that's the way you want to go, I'll make sure none of my crew adds it."

"Thank you," she said as she glanced towards the hangar door as Pops pulled his hand back and turned towards her fighter, tilting his head curious at the cockpit.

"Hmmm. You have any electronic problems when you were up there?"

"Just trying to lock onto Captain Bartlett during a training round, but that's probably user error," she explained. "Why did you ask?"

"Bartlett said he had some trouble with his too. Probably just the plane's age catching up to it, but it pays to double check."

She nodded. "Do you want some help?"

"Nah, I'm fine, this is precision work, not the stuff Bartlett expects you to be able to identify. It still works, so it's not critical, but it's best to make sure everything's well maintained."

"Alright, I'll go stow my flight gear then."

XXXX

**The Next Morning**

**September 27th, 2010**

**1030 Hours**

**Sand Island - Briefing Room**

"Sit down people, this isn't paradise," Orson Perrault ordered as he booted up the briefing system and brought up Sand Island's current radar scans, showing multiple contacts flying in a radius around Sand Island. The three trainees and their insubordinate captain simply sat down and watched the display quietly.

"We will now discuss Operation Gyre, which you will perform today _to my exact orders_," he said as he gave Bartlett as harsh a glare as he could. "Whoever's been poking their nose into our affairs was dumb enough to launch UAVs over our island to take pictures of us. I don't care who sent them - whether it's another nation or that journalist's friends in their stuffy offices - I want them shot down before they get back to the ship that launched them."

He adjusted the radar to show the vessel that had launched the UAVs - Unmanned Aerial Vehicles more commonly known as drones. "However, you are _not_ permitted to fire on the ship unless _I_ give the order, nor are you permitted to engage without permission. Am. I. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Bartlett intoned and the commanding officer of Sand Island glared at him.

"Don't do something stupid like you did two days ago, Bartlett. Now get to your fighters and launch!"

XXXXX

**1113 Hours**

**Above Sand Island**

"'_We will now discuss Operation Gyre', oh gimme a break; what is this, a video game?"_ Chopper muttered, mimicking the colonel's mannerisms briefly.

"You're transmitting, Chopper," Kei warned as they entered formation as the control tower cancelled their altitude restrictions, flying towards the west of Sand Island's airspace.

"_Point stands, we basically just scrambled!"_ Chopper retorted when another voice cut in.

"_Wardog, this is Thunderhead: Unmanned recon drones returning to their spy vessel! You are cleared to engage the recon drones heading back to the ship. Take them all down!"_

"_Sure thing,"_ Bartlett answered, _"you got that gang?"_

"_Wardog Four, roger,"_ Blaze answered.

"_Wardog Three, roger!"_

"Wardog Two, roger."

"_Good! I'll keep watch out here, you three go play with those toys."_ Bartlett broke formation and went a few hundred feet above them and Kei looked at her radar and nodded. Eight UAVs on radar.

"Edge, engaging drones," she reported as she accelerated towards the first one and locked on before using her machine guns to take down a drone as Chopper followed her and took out the one next to it, also using guns. There was no point in wasting a missile on these.

"_And there goes Blaze after the first set of three,"_ Chopper commented as the other Tiger shot out towards the drones. _"You better hurry or he'll be an ace first."_

"_I think it'd be unfair to count drones,"_ Blaze responded as he got behind the drones and opened fire with his machine guns. _"Though, at least there's no people in these things. No guilt over shooting them down, right?"_

"True," she admitted as she broke towards the other flight of UAVs as Chopper went to get the ones Blaze missed. It was much easier to target the drones: it was just like basic training and the old barrage balloons from the forties they disposed of by letting trainees at them. No disturbing thoughts of the families they were destroying, the friendships being burned.

She locked on and fired, but before her shots connected the drone pulled a tight corkscrew that no human could survive and she overshot. "Be careful, the drones have tight maneuverability."

"_Yeah, they really have some funky maneuvers,"_ Chopper answered as Blaze shot another one down. _"But jeez, first a spy plane and now drones? Anyone feel like something's coming?"_

Kei paused as she considered the thought and adjusted her radar to check the ship that was supposed to be collecting the UAVs they were destroying. "Do you think others reached the mainland?"

"_I sure hope not,"_ Barlett commented as they finished off the last of the UAVs. _"Let's search around for some more. Thunderhead, status on the enemy ship?"_

"_Ship is not confirmed to be hostile,"_ Thunderhead explained as they formed up on Bartlett. _"Stand by, we're conferring with High Command about how to proceed and are contacting the Coast Guard about getting some frigates out here."_

"Until then keep the ship in our sights?"

"_Exactly, Wardog Two,"_ Thunderhead answered and they entered a holding pattern as they edged further into international airspace and waters.

"_So, Captain,"_ Blaze asked. _"You flew with the Demon Lord, right?"_

Kei perked up curiously at the question. They all knew about Bartlett's war history, so asking seemed odd until she wrote it off as a way to pass time.

"_Next time bring a CD player or something,"_ Bartlett commented before chuckling.

"_Note to self grab rock-and-roll records,"_ Chopper muttered.

"_But to answer your question Kid; yes, I did. Once. Over B7R."_

"The Demon Lord singled you out after the battle," Kei added. "What did you do to get his attention?"

"_That's a long story and something for the ground, but to make it quick: I chased a couple Hornets off his ass and was in the fight until Schwarze showed up. At that point one of the new Belkan planes that showed up shot both me and Pops down. I guess I stood out enough that the Demon Lord noticed. Still surprised he commented; he never cared about what the regulars thought of him."_

"_How did the regulars view him anyways?"_ Blaze asked. _"The way he's talked about today, you'd think he was an actual demon from the old legends."_

"_Wouldn't surprise me, but let's just say that we looked down on a lot of Ustio's irregulars. Hypocritically, at that. We did the same amount of collateral they did; heck we did worse. Hoffnung still looks like shit and Sudentor's economy still hasn't recovered from us sacking the city's history."_

Kei winced as she remembered that. Osean police working in tandem with Assembly of Nations investigators were still trying to track down all the priceless historical artifacts from Belka's past that had been collected in the Sudentor Museum of Classical History and then looted by the Osean, Yuktobanian, and Sapin armies. They still found pieces occasionally, but so much had been lost, and not just Belkan history but also Osean, Aurelian, and even some relics from the nations west of Yuktobania like Sotoa.

The discussion of history was cut short, however, when their radars beeped and Thunderhead's voice came into the airwaves. _"Wardog, incoming contacts closing fast!"_

"_Same attack axis as before?"_ Bartlett asked quickly as Edge checked the status of her fighter's missiles.

"_Same as before, two-eight-zero,"_ Thunderhead said and she felt a pit forming in her stomach. They were going to be killing and being killed again.

"_Jeez how many planes do they have lined up at the border? We've only got four here!"_ Bartlett groaned. _"We better abort. Fall back to Osean airspace. Thunderhead, keep an eye on them!"_

Kei turned her fighter with the rest of the squadron as they headed back, watching the radar and frowning as she saw the Identify-Friend-Foe numbers of the four contacts. MiG-29 Fulcrums with familiar numbers. "Captain," she said, "are you seeing the IFF on those fighters?"

"_Wait, are you saying…"_ Blaze started before Chopper cut in.

"_The bastards who killed all our friends? Great… Thunderhead, what's the status on engaging?"_

"_No clearance yet,"_ Thunderhead warned. _"Hold on, I'm going to try and scramble your radar signatures so they can't lock on. Hurry and abort!"_

"_Don't bother, you're too far. We'll just have to hope they haven't gotten around the heat dampeners,"_ Bartlett explained and Kei glanced back to get a glimpse at the heat trail of her engines. Heat seeking missiles had nearly spelled the end of the ace pilot when they were introduced, but Belka, which relied heavily on experienced ace pilots, managed to design a countermeasure which was a massive contributor to their ability to devastate the air forces of the nations around them when they invaded in 1995.

This countermeasure came in the form of a cheap and easily retrofitted dampener for every plane's engine and other heat sources, creating thermal inconsistencies, weakening a heat seeking missile's ability to retain a lock after being fired. And they were cheap enough that even civilian aircraft installed them in the event of a renegade attack by groups like A World with No Boundaries. And despite the urban legends, they did little to reduce the effectiveness of engines.

However, while missiles were still the go-to weapon for pilots, the usage of a plane's guns had increased nearly to the same scale as during the late thirties and forties as a way to avoid the issue altogether. Heatseekers were still used, but this was mostly because they were cheaper than radar guided missiles and still effective with some skill. You just had to time it right so that the opponent was unable to dodge the missile in time.

And as they were speeding towards Sand Island, Kei glanced down and noticed the MiGs were gaining on them and were in missile range. "Chopper, check your six!" she warned.

"_I'm trying, they're running me down!"_ Chopper complained, having ended up in the trail position as they pulled out and were in a very loose formation. _"Man, why'd I draw the short straw this time?"_

"_Wardog! They're locking onto you!"_ Thunderhead warned. _"Prepare to evade!"_

"_Permission to engage?"_ Blaze asked.

Thunderhead paused, and in that pause a missile shot towards them. "Break break!" Kei shouted. Bartlett pulled up, as did Chopper, while she and Blaze dove - this time in opposite directions. The missile from the lead plane followed Chopper, but a sudden dive managed to shake it from his tail.

"_Wardog, Perrault is denying you permission to engage,"_ Thunderhead reported.

"They're here to kill us!" Kei shouted as she turned her fighter around as she saw one shooting straight for her. "The enemy has opened fire!"

"_Edge, he's coming for you!" _Bartlett shouted. _"Thunderhead, we need to engage!"_

Thunderhead paused before finally answering. _"Wardog, engage but do not pursue if they retreat."_

"Copy, Edge engaging!" as she came out of the roll she had done to avoid a gun burst from the Fulcrum.

"_Blaze engaging!"_

"_Chopper engaging!"_

"_Heartbreak One, engaged! Edge, snap left!"_

She did so and as soon as she did, a missile shot from Bartlett's Phantom and slammed into the Fulcrum that was going for her and the plane disintegrated in mid air. She glanced around and noticed another going for Blaze. "Blaze, check six!"

"_Whoa! How'd he get back there?"_ Blaze asked as he pulled up to his left as Kei aimed her nose towards the enemy fighter.

"_Wardog Two in gun range!"_ Thunderhead confirmed and she pulled the trigger, the tracers flying just to the side of the Fulcrum as it evaded.

"_Fox One, Fox One!"_ Bartlett warned and Kei snapped out of the Captain's line of fire as one of the Sparrows released from his Phantom and narrowly overshot the Fulcrum, which broke off from trying to engage Blaze. One was going for Chopper and had him stuck desperately maneuvering, while another was going for Bartlett…

"Fighter on the Captain's tail, turning to engage!" Edge reported.

"_Got it, I'll get the one on Chopper!"_ Blaze said as he broke off. Bartlett went after the Fulcrum that had been going for Blaze while Edge decelerated to let Bartlett and the Fulcrum shoot ahead, bringing her right behind her target.

She locked on and realized that the enemy pilot had no defense against her now. She was in perfect missile range and if that failed, she had guns. Part of her wanted to hesitate, to not kill the pilot, but as her fingers squeezed around the trigger she understood why. Whoever this person was, whoever his or her family was, he or she had chosen to try and attack them. And while Kei believed in peace, as his wingman she was responsible for protecting Bartlett, just as he covered her.

"Fox Two, Fox Two!" she called as she released both missiles from her launch rails and they shot towards the Fulcrum. It broke off, the brief hesitation on her part giving it a chance to, but the missiles exploded near it and shrapnel tore into it's fuselage. It decelerated and as she shot past she took a glance at it and noticed it had something painted onto the now damaged fuselage.

Three F-5E Tigers. With an Osean Air Defense Force roundel on each black silhouette.

Kei dove her plane towards the sea before the Fulcrum could get a shot on her and let it follow her as Bartlett fired one of his Sparrows at the other.

"_Blaze, Fox Two!"_

"_That's a hit, that's a hit Blaze!"_ Chopper called. _"You got 'im!"_

"_Shack on the target, he's down!"_ Thunderhead confirmed. _"Wardog Two, you're being spiked by radar!"_

"Roger that!" she answered as she pulled out of her dive as the Fulcrum followed and broke left. Something was stirring and she understood what it was immediately. Bloodlust. This was the man who had killed her friends. The flight she had flown with. And he was _bragging about it_. Whatever family he had, who his friends were, that didn't matter to her anymore as he stayed on her tail.

_I'm not going to be painted onto his ego!_ she thought as he fired a missile and she yawed to the right before diving again to lose it.

"_Wardog Two, missile evaded,"_ Thunderhead reported._ "Wardog Three, you have lock on!"_

"_I've got him, Nagase!"_ Chopper called as he fired a Sidewinder and the Fulcrum broke off, dodging the missile. _"Blaze, go help the captain!"_

"_I'll be fine!"_ Bartlett retorted as he shot past them, the Fulcrum tight on his tail. _"Stick together you three!"_

Kei glanced at the Fulcrum that had been after her. Payback could wait. "Cover me, I'm going to clear his six!"

"_Got you covered,"_ Blaze answered as the Fulcrum chasing after Bartlett broke off. _"Hey, the other one just broke off too."_

"_Wardog, disengage while you can,"_ Thunderhead ordered as Kei watched both radar contacts moving west towards Yuktobanian waters.

"_He's right,"_ Bartlett said as they began to shift towards Sand Island. _"Wait… hang on, they're turning around! Break, break!"_

The two Fulcrums had shot towards them and the missile alert blared to life as Kei felt the g-forces pushing her body into her seat as she pulled a tight turn to evade the two missiles going for her. Both exploded from their proximity fuses, but with her dive she managed to avoid the worst damage and there were only some scratches on her plane. The armor had taken it.

"_Those bastards just alpha striked us!"_ Chopper shouted indignantly. Alpha striking… unloading everything you had in one salvo. It either worked and utterly slaughtered what you were aiming for, or...

"_They're out of missiles!"_ Blaze retorted. _"Let's finish them!"_

Kei shot towards the one that had been going after her as it was coming to meet her head to head. Both her radar and radar warning beeped as she was climbing to meet his head on dive. "Fox Two!" she shouted as she released two missiles from her plane's wing hardpoints and broke off. The Fulcrum had fired, and had anticipated the direction she was going. The bullets hit her left launch rail and the entire fighter shook. There was no explosion behind her and her two missiles were still on radar.

"_Captain just bagged one!"_ Blaze called as Bartlett shot down the other Fulcrum, and Kei nodded to herself. One more to end this fight.

She snapped her plane into a dive as the Fulcrum was trying to regain altitude and quickly acquired a radar lock.

"_Edge, fire one missile to scare him and then loose another in his dodge path!"_ Bartlett ordered and she did so.

The first missile shot towards the plane and the MiG evaded, the missile splashing into the ocean below. The second missile, however, launched after she turned her plane to meet her target's path, exploding in front of him and the shrapnel tore into the fighter.

"_Bandit in gun range!"_ Thunderhead warned and she squeezed down on the trigger, firing the machine guns and hitting the Fulcrum's nose that had been damaged from the shrapnel. The rounds hit it and then hit the cockpit, breaking the glass and the pilot lost control of his plane. She dropped in behind him and fired another burst, hitting its engine and the plane seemed to stall into a permanent right yaw, shaking up and down but remaining steady enough to not lose altitude.

"_He's disabled!"_ Bartlett reported. _"Good job, Nagase."_

"_You going to finish him off?"_ Blaze asked.

She paused, looked down at her readout. She had more than enough machine gun ammo left to finish the job.

"_Hey, this bastard killed our friends, I say shoot him!"_ Chopper chimed in. _"He sure as shit didn't give them mercy and he hasn't surrendered!"_

"_Not your call, Motormouth,"_ Bartlett chided sternly. _"She got the kill; whether she finishes him or not, it's her fourth. One more 'till she's an ace."_

And with that, another man's life was in her hands. _"I can't see - aaaarrgghhh!"_ Kei closed her eyes as the scream of her wingman only a few days earlier rang in her mind. The horrified screams of her fellow trainees as they were ambushed, slaughtered like lambs in a butchers. And the image of those same people reduced to what amounted to notches on the bedpost, painted onto the enemy pilot's plane. This man or woman had murdered three good young Osean men and was bragging about it.

"_Thunderhead to Wardog Two, Perrault just ordered you to finish the engagement."_

"Roger," Edge said as she acquired a radar lock before pausing, matching the yaw in the Fulcrum and staying behind it. "Wardog 2 switching to open frequency." As soon as she adjusted her outbound mic, she inhaled to steady herself before starting.

"Enemy fighter, this is Second Lieutenant Nagase, Osean 108th Tactical Fighter Squadron. Your fighter is disabled and you have no support. If you have any form of control, lower your landing gear and we will bring you in as a prisoner of war treated in accordance with the San Salvacion Convention."

There was a pause before the Fulcrum's gear started to lower but could not lower all the way and another voice came back. It was unmistakable: a Yuktobanian accent. _"You lose, Osean!"_ he said before the audio cut. There was a puff of smoke from the jet as the pilot ejected from his plane, the Fulcrum dipping down into the ocean and sinking rapidly after impact.

"_That ends that,"_ Bartlett said warmly as she switched back to the squadron frequency. _"Well done, Nagase."_

"_Keep your heads on a swivel,"_ Thunderhead cut in, _"The alert's still active- Wardog Two BREAK!"_

Kei barely had time to react as the plane's missile warning blared to life and she barely had time to see the missile shooting up from the ship they had been pursuing. She had hesitated right into a surface-to-air missile launch!

Immediately pulling up, she grunted at the sheer force of gravity pinning her into her seat as she tried to evade it. _"They have high-grade SAMs?!"_ Blaze asked in horror_. "Thunderhead, requesting permission to sink the ship!"_

She didn't catch the AWACS' response as she tried a corkscrew to lose the radar guided missile when she saw something flash by her fighter's radar screen. A friendly signature, primary friendly… and the missile lock stopped.

"Captain!" Kei shouted as she looked to her left and saw the missile now on Bartlett's tail and closing fast. The veteran pilot pulled a tight turn, but the missile stayed on course and exploded as it almost reached his engines, spraying shrapnel into the back of the plane and causing it to trail smoke and fire to belch from its now exposed fuel line.

And the enormity of her mistake hit her. She had hesitated, and now the man she was supposed to be guarding had paid for it. "Captain, come in!"

"_Hey, save the waterworks!"_ Bartlett answered and she could almost see him grinning. _"I'm okay, but the plane's trashed. I'll just set her down here and bail out, we can replace them anyways. It's getting the pilots home that matters."_

"Captain, I'm…"

"_Save it, you did well. Kid, tell Perrault to get off his ass and send the Littlebird out and pick me up. And tell Pops to get my Tiger ready for battle. Thunderhead, take care of them for me, okay?"_

"_Roger, Wardog Leader,"_ Thunderhead answered. _"Wardog, enter a holding pattern outside of SAM range. We'll move into a better position to scramble any further radar locks."_

"Understood," Kei said as she watched Bartlett eject from the doomed Phantom and his chute deployed while Blaze relayed the captain's orders. Pulling up to a higher altitude, she kept watching when Thunderhead interrupted them again.

"_Wardog, RTB immediately!"_ Thunderhead ordered.

"But, rescue chopper hasn't scrambled yet," Kei protested as Bartlett's doomed trainer jet crashed into the ocean.

"_Leave that to the rescue chopper! Get back to base, rearm, and get into the air immediately! The enemy just declared war on us! I'll send you coordinates as soon as you get in the air again! Double time, move it!"_

"_Understood, Thunderhead,"_ Blaze answered. _"Chopper, Edge, let's go."_

"... Wardog Two copies," she said as she turned her plane away from the engagement zone, a cold void gripping her chest.

The last thing she saw before losing sight of him was Bartlett's parachute… and was he going towards the enemy ship?

XXXXXX

**1202 Hours**

**Sand Island - Barracks**

"Captain Hamilton," Albert said as he looked at the adjutant of the Sand Island base. He resembled the other Wardogs in overall build, except for his blond hair compared to the darker tones more common amongst the trainees. And unlike Colonel Perrault, Allen Hamilton had been a voice of reason and kind to him. Or at least as kind as his duties permitted.

"This belongs to you," Hamilton answered and Albert smiled. His camera.

"Thank you," he said as the adjutant passed it to him. "But won't the colonel…"

"I pointed out how you needed it for your job and that an article without a photo won't get him on the front page," Hamilton explained with a faint smirk. "And we kept a scan of your photos without the classified markings. You'll have to clear it with him to use any of the ones you took, but you will be allowed to look at them and ask."

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," Hamilton said. "May I?"

"Of course," he took a step to the side and let Hamilton in. The captain paused, looking at the collection of articles that had littered his desk.

"I suppose I should feel jealous," Hamilton admitted as he walked by and picked up one of them, a snippet of the article on the Battle of B7R that included the Demon Lord's comment about Bartlett. "I would have liked to have a job like yours."

"Why didn't you?" he asked curiously as Hamilton glared at the piece, notably the part about the Demon Lord himself, before putting it back down.

"My uncle was a soldier," he explained when the phone suddenly rang. "Excuse me," he said and picked it up. Albert walked over to the bed in his room - or as he saw it, the cell - he had been assigned to, and waited patiently as Hamilton listened to whoever was on the other end.

Hamilton looked oddly at peace despite the grimace on his face as he hung up. "Well, we have no more reason to hold you."

"Huh?" Albert asked with a frown. "Why's that?"

"Yuktobania just declared war, and launched a simultaneous offensive to go with it," the captain turned and began walking out of the room, adjusting his hat as he went. "Our naval port at Saint Hewlett is being bombed right now." And with that, he was out the door, leaving Albert to stand there, stunned.

They were at war? Osea, the nation that had sworn off military action as a tool of foreign policy in the aftermath of the Belkan War, was at war? And with one of the nations that it shared the aforementioned pledge with? Somehow, it felt like someone was pulling an elaborate prank on him as he heard engines powering up outside. Walking to the window and prying open the shades, he watched as he saw the Wardog Squadron taking off again.

But there were only three of them now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**End Chapter**

_- I suspect you're asking "Why is Thunderhead giving them permission to engage?" Well… like in canon, it's still basically out of his hands. Also, rather than it being in the air if the player engages first or not, the enemy is explicitly engaging first this time. By-the-book as Thunderhead is, I somehow doubt he would deliberately tell them to sit there and get killed. Despite all the shit he gives the squadron, he does genuinely care for them and I always read him being a hardass as more trying to get them home alive by not letting them slack off and get a missile from a random boat to the ass. Perrault though… yeah, he's open and shut._

_- The "Heat Dampener" is a bit of a handwave on my part, but given how prevalent missiles are and how Ace Combat seems to favor the WWII style of dogfighting, it did feel like a sensible explanation. Plus, compared to things like Excalibur, the Arkbird, or Morgan, it's pretty reasonable in comparison. And even then, heat seekers are still a deadly threat and it's useless against radar guided missiles. Leave it to Belka, huh? Though for the record, the basic tactics stay the same for dodging missiles as they are in real life - sharp turns, make it overshoot, the proximity fuse detonates and all the shrapnel misses. They just get a wider margin of error._

_- Speaking of that; for those who are unaware, "Fox One" means semi-active radar guided missiles (in AC, SAAMs), "Fox Two" is heat seeking (standard missiles in AC), "Fox Three" is radar guided (XLAA/XMAA), and "Fox Four" is for machine guns, but IRL "Fox Four" is usually instead reported as "Guns" repeated three times. Some technical talk and brevity codes will be used, but I'll try to keep it to a reasonable amount and try to introduce it in a way that also comes with an explanation. IE, Blaze saying "10-4" to Thunderhead followed by 'Loud and Clear' as narration._


	4. Chapter 3: Naval Blockade

"_I've got something on radar, bearing two-four-six… probably just the Shorebirds coming back early. Carrier pilots, y'know?"_

- OMDF Corporal Erwin Lee, shortly before the Battle of St. Hewlett

**September 27th, 2010**

**1433 Hours**

**Six Miles South of Port St. Hewlett**

"_Wardog, listen up!"_ Thunderhead barked as they were approaching their target. _"Port St. Hewlett is being bombed by most of the Yuktobanian Naval Air Force. Their primary target is the aircraft carrier OFS _Kestrel_, flagship of the Third Naval Fleet! That's your primary objective: defend the carrier at all costs and do as much as you can to protect the rest of the fleet. Understood?"_

"Blaze, roger."

"_Chopper, roger."_

Mason waited for Edge's response… and it didn't come. "Edge?"

"_Edge copies,"_ she finally answered. She had been silent the entire flight, and though flying the lead position of the formation, she barely acknowledged Thunderhead's coordinates and flight routes to get them there.

"_Edge, you lead the formation."_ Thunderhead ordered.

"_Negative, you take the lead Blaze. I'll fly on your wing."_

"Wait _what?_" Mason asked in surprise as her fighter decelerated and she put herself on his left. "Uh, Edge, you just got orders to lead the formation…"

"_I know. But you're leading - and I'm not going to lose another flight lead."_

_Shit,_ he thought as he realized where this was coming from. "Edge this is no time to mess around. Are you sure about this?"

"_Second Lieutenant Nagase, follow your orders!"_ Thunderhead ordered again.

"_I'm sure. Take the lead, Blaze, I'll cover you."_

Before he could respond, another formation of Osean jets flew up from behind. F-14 Tomcats, the standard mainline fighter of the Osean Military since the aftermath of the Belkan War.

"_Captain Snow of Shorebird Squadron to Wardog: quit screwing around, the enemy's all over and they'll eat you alive!"_

"_Ahhhh…. I'm just going to stay in trail position, thanks,"_ Chopper said and Mason sighed.

"Alright, Blaze taking the lead," he said. Someone had to take the lead or they'd be worse than useless; they'd be a liability. "Edge, Chopper, let's fall in with the Shorebirds until we get to the _Kestrel_."

"_You're in luck, we're the _Kestrel's_ primary flight,"_ Captain Snow answered. _"My callsign's Swordsman. Gentlemen, introduce yourselves while we have a minute."_

"_Shorebird Two here; callsign Halberdier,"_ another man answered as they fell into formation with the other jets, Wardog behind the Shorebirds.

"_Shorebird Three, callsign Pikeman."_

"_Shorebird Four, callsign Arbalast. And you guys?"_

"Understood. Wardog Four, acting lead, callsign Blaze."

"_Wardog Two, callsign Edge."_

"_And Wardog Three, callsign Chopper."_

"We'll stick with you guys until we're told otherwise," Mason added after the introductions were finished.

"_Smart choice,"_ Swordsman answered as they were almost at the battlezone.

"_Hey, Wardog Lead, those kills on your fuselage?"_ Halberdier asked._ "I thought Bartlett's next crop wasn't ready yet."_

"_We… had run ins,"_ Edge said evasively as they approached the port.

"_Yeah; both of these two are nearly aces though. Blaze has three kills and Edge four,"_ Chopper bragged. _"I've got none, but hey, I survived!"_

"Not now, Chopper," Mason snapped. This was not the time for arguing about who would become the first OADF ace since the Belkan War. Especially as he could start making out the chaos that was engulfing the Osean Maritime Defense Force's main harbor.

Smoke and fire billowed from the southern shore of the port, sporadic anti-aircraft and SAM fire shooting back at the Yuke carrier jets bombing the docks and other base facilities, a naval drydock exploding as a flight of four Yuktobanian A-6E Intruders released a full bomb load before breaking off as a missile from an Osean Aegis Cruiser slammed into the middle of the formation and knocked out the lead plane. The others began to trail smoke from the shrapnel. The radar showed more Intruders were coming in, covered by more air-to-air built carrier jets, including a flight of MiG-31s and several more of Phantoms. Osean jets were also in the air, but there were too few to cover everything.

And in the middle of it all, beginning to make its way towards the open water of the ocean, was a flat decked ship with a pair of Destroyers on its flank, all three of which were firing their onboard guns at anything non-Osean that dared fly too close.

Mason nodded to himself as his radar beeped to confirm another flight of Intruders coming in. "Wardog, call out anything that's heading for the _Kestrel_ and make that a priority target. Otherwise engage targets of opportunity as you can. Engage at will but stay close!"

"_Wardog Two, roger."_

"_Wardog Three, roger."_

"_Wardog Squadron, tune to our fleet command channel,"_ Swordsman added before reading off a list of numbers. Mason nodded and adjusted and he could hear the radio chatter as Wardog dove into the fray, the Shorebirds heading for the MiGs flying top cover as the Foxhounds were turning to engage them.

"_All friendly aircraft engage the next wave of enemy jets! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!"_ the port commander was shouting.

"_Oh thanks for the heads up you idiot!"_ another officer retorted.

Mason dropped behind an Intruder that was making a run towards one of the ships escorting the Kestrel, locking on and firing a Sidewinder. The Intruder had spotted him and began evasive maneuvers, allowing it to dodge the missile. He quickly yawed to the left to follow it and aimed the nose of his jet before his target and fired, the bullets shooting ahead of the Intruder until it flew right into them, shredding it and sending it tumbling into the ocean.

"_Blaze, check six!"_ Edge shouted and he glanced down just in time to see a Yuke Phantom on his tail and acquiring a radar lock. He snapped to the right as it fired, pulling as sharp a turn as his fighter could handle. The Phantom followed, but the missile was unable to turn with it and lost tracking.

_Only upside is that there's no guns on that,_ he thought as he juked to the side past a frigate that was sinking fast as a Tomcat joined in with Edge.

"_Whoa, I've got one on my tail!"_ Chopper warned.

"_Hang on, I've got him!"_ Arbalest answered. Mason grit his teeth as the fighter that had joined Edge fired its guns. He couldn't protect Chopper with the fighter on his tail and trying to get a lock on him.

"_Fox Two!"_ Edge shouted and he heard an explosion behind him and a quick glance at his radar confirmed that the Yuke chasing him had been destroyed.

"_Halberdier and Wardog Two just splashed one,"_ Swordsman's voice confirmed.

"Thank you, both of you!" Mason said as he glanced to the side. "Chopper, how're you doing?"

"_I'm clear and on this guy's tail!"_ Chopper answered. He was chasing down one of the Tigers that the Yukes had brought to the attack and the one chasing him had been warded off or destroyed, he couldn't see which.

"_Swordsman, Fox Three!"_ An explosion above and a falling MiG told him how that dogfight had ended as Mason checked his radar for another target.

"_Arbalest, missile, MISSILE!"_ Halberdier shouted.

"Hang on!" Mason shouted as he pulled up sharply as he saw the MiG chasing the Tomcat, which dove sharply to try and avoid the missile. "Blaze, Fox Two!" he called as soon as the target lock was confirmed as he came in from the side. The MiG broke off its attack and swerved so the missile undershot and exploded harmlessly.

"_Shit!"_ Arbalest shouted, _"I'm hit, bailing out!"_

Mason glanced at his radar and saw who had hit the Shorebird pilot: a pair of Yuke F-5E Tigers from below. He dived down after the Tigers, Edge behind him, and fired his guns as Swordsman called Arbalest's chute as good. The two nose mounted cannons buzzed to life and shot ahead of his target, hitting the left one's engine before a missile from above finished it off.

"_Let's call that a shared one,"_ Pikeman said as the other Tomcat flew past.

"Fine by me," he retorted. "Edge, you get the other one?"

"_Negative; one of the Phantoms hit it in a flyby."_

Before he could comment, an explosion rippled from below and three Intruders flew past his plane's canopy, hellbound to get away from the battlezone.

"_The bastards just wrecked the _Antium! _She's sinking!"_

"Shit!" Mason muttered as he glanced down and could make out the billowing smoke of a ship that had split in half ahead of them.

"Kestrel_ is two miles from the bay exit!"_

"_Are… are those people in the water?"_ Edge asked as they flew by the ship.

XXXXXXXXX

"Come on you son of a bitch!" Chopper shouted as he pulled hard to the left as the MiG on his tail fired a missile. The sharp ninety-degree turn had thrown off the heat seeker, but the MiG was still on him as he continued to jink side to side to avoid another lock as his altitude was being forced down. He didn't know where the Tiger he had been chasing had gone, but he had bigger problems.

_Ah screw it,_ he thought as he dived in between the smoke billowing from destroyed oil tanks on the southern shore of the port, flying through one of the larger plumes of smoke and pulling up, quickly decelerating and hoping that his plan worked as he heard chatter about another ship being sunk.

He wasn't sure how, but the Foxhound on his tail had gone straight past and Chopper smiled as he dropped in behind his target and locked on. "Fox Two Fox Two!" he shouted as he released both missiles from his fighter's launch rails. His target jinked to the left, towards the center of the gulf.

"Oh no you don't!" he said as he stayed behind it and fired his guns, hitting its engines directly and causing them to ignite, fuel spraying from the engines.

"Yeah!" Chopper shouted. "Wardog Three, scratch a Foxhound!" He kept his eyes on it as he flew forward and past it, tilting his jet somewhat so he could watch his first kill dive into the water. _This is going to be one to remember,_ he thought as he grinned.

The MiG-31 was still in some control, but it was losing altitude fast and was tipping to the side. _Why's he tipping?_ Chopper wondered as before he almost threw up into his breath mask. The fuel spraying from the engines was splashing into the water and remained ignited. Landing on the Osean naval crewmen who had abandoned their ship after it was sunk. And the MiG pilot had _tipped his plane to make sure they were sprayed by the fuel._

"Oh no," he said as his eyes went wide. "Oh no, how... " Then the radio crackled to life.

"_Jackson, Jackson are you okay! Arbalest, talk to me!"_ Swordsman shouted as the scream in the squadron frequencies echoed as the Foxhound finally splashed into the water. An ear splitting shriek that made nightmares.

"Stop it," Chopper begged as he closed his eyes. "Someone… please… make it stop!" The scream continued and even with his eyes closed he could see the people burning on the waves. See their faces.

He shouldn't have looked.

"_Chopper, form up!"_ Blaze ordered.

"What?" Chopper asked, shocked. "Kid, did you see…"

"_I saw,"_ he said and Chopper found himself surprised. How was he still calm? There was a waver in their temporary flight lead's voice, but nothing like he had seen those people burning alive.

"Then… I, I did..."

"_We can't help them now, but we can help everyone else,"_ Blaze interrupted sharply. _"Form up Wardog, we've got another wave incoming for the _Kestrel_!"_

Chopper exhaled, forcing himself to look away and pulled back on the stick gently, bringing his altitude up to meet Blaze and Edge. "Wardog Three, roger."

"_Wardog, the incoming flight targeting the _Kestrel_! Take them out!"_ Thunderhead ordered.

"Let's get them!" Chopper called as he adjusted his radar and picked up the two Su-25 Frogfoots that were inbound with the rocket pods. One run of those would almost certainly trash the _Kestrel'_s deck and render it inoperable. And then the Shorebirds would be out of a home. _Not on my watch,_ he thought as he checked his ammo count. Four missiles left.

The two Frogfoots spotted them and began to evade. Edge and Blaze both fired a missile at the leader, hitting him and sending the plane spiraling into the ocean in a flaming wreck, and Chopper hit his target with guns but it was still active, albeit wobbling as it flew forward and began to pull out.

"_Frogfoot disabled and withdrawing!"_ Thunderhead called. _"Continue to protect the _Kestrel_."_

"_Roger that,"_ Swordsman answered. _"That's our carrier!"_

"_Negative; Shorebird Squadron, you're needed in the east. Don't let them destroy our drydock capabilities!"_

"_That's my carrier, you pigheaded moron!"_ Swordsman protested and Chopper wanted to say something. To support him against the AWACS. He owed it to them to let them defend their home.

"Hey, Kid, do you think…"

"_Alright,"_ Swordsman cut in before he could finish. _"Shorebirds, we're covering the east. Wardog! Take care of the carrier, and teach the Yukes the same fear the Belkans learned. We'll be back ASAP."_

"_We'll do everything we can," _Blaze confirmed. _"Wardog, ammo count? I've got three Sidewinders and half a gun left."_

"_Wardog Two, four missiles and most of my guns."_

"Wardog Three, I've got four missiles left."

The three pilots formed up over the _Kestrel_ as Thunderhead reported that another flight of Osean reinforcements had arrived from the nearby army base, but Chopper wasn't paying attention to it as the _Kestrel_ and a small handful of ships made it past the bridge marking the end of Port St. Hewlett itself.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath, "whoever's out there… get that bucket of bolts out to the ocean."

"_This is Captain Andersen of the Aircraft Carrier _Kestrel_, my congratulations to those who managed to escape,"_ an old, grizzled voice explained over the radio. _"As Captain, I will now form a provisional battle fleet. The enemy has built a blockade to prevent our escape, and we must break through in order to make it to safer waters. Good luck, everyone. All available friendly aircraft, I'm requesting your assistance."_

"_Wardog Squadron to _Kestrel_,"_ Blaze answered, _"We'll do everything we can but we have no anti-ship weapons. I repeat: no anti-ship weapons. We can only provide top cover and a distraction."_

"_Understood,"_ Andersen answered. _"Do what you can."_

"Hey Kid!" Chopper shouted as his radar beeped with a clearer update of what they were looking at. "Yuke Phantoms, dead ahead."

"_And screening a pair of Nimrods,"_ Edge added. And as Chopper looked down at his radar, his gut tightened again. With their long range anti-ship missiles, the Nimrods would be more than enough to wreck the battle fleet.

"_Damn it… sorry guys, but we have to take care of those Nimrods before they can launch. You two have the most missiles left; pick a Nimrod and go for it. I'll try and draw their fire."_

"Jeez," Chopper groaned. "We're fucking nuggets! Don't the ships have point defenses or something?"

"_I know, but until we get reinforcements I don't have any better ideas, and you know Phalanx fire isn't nearly as effective as advertised."_

"I know and I'm willing, but still… man, I'm missing that voice right now." He wasn't sure how, but Bartlett yelling at them would have been reassuring. Or at least some snarky ass comment about how poorly named the anti-missile defense cannon was named given it had nothing at all to do with the effectiveness of the ancient Estovakian formations.

"_So am I. Here goes!"_ Blaze's fighter shot ahead and Chopper slammed his acceleration to full and sped after him, Edge on his left flank.

"_Chopper, go for the right."_ Edge suggested.

"Got it!" he answered as Blaze fired two of his missiles at the leading Phantom before snapping out of the head to head as the three Yuke Phantoms moved to engage. The two missiles slammed into the leading Phantom as it tried to pull out, wings breaking off as the plane tumbled into the ocean and the missiles it fired uselessly sailing forward into the blue skies without guidance.

Chopper brought the nose of his fighter directly in line with the Nimrod, the large plane beginning to dive and evade. Lowering his throttle, he released two Sidewinders from the Tiger's hardpoints, aiming just ahead of it. "Fox Two, Fox Two!" The larger anti-ship plane tried to maneuver to the side, but it was too late and the missiles slammed into the topside of its fuselage. "Yeah! Target hit!"

"_Davenport, it's still on course! Keep hitting it!"_ Thunderhead ordered.

"_Edge, Fox Two!"_

"Roger!" he responded as he shot past and brought his fighter around, lining up behind the Nimrod as it tried to fire and as soon as he locked on, released his last two missiles.

"Chopper, Winchester." Out of missiles.

"_Shack on the target! Nimrod going down!"_ Thunderhead reported as the large aircraft erupted into a fireball and fell to the ocean a flaming wreck. _"Wardog, continue to engage - Blaze, missile!"_

Chopper glanced up and saw a missile explode off the side of Blaze's fighter and knocked off his right launch rail. "Blaze!" he shouted, "Hang on, I'm…"

"_Edge, engaging Phantoms!"_

He blinked as he saw Edge's Tiger peeling away from the Nimrod she had been hammering and shot right towards the Phantoms. "Uh, Chopper engaging remaining Nimrod!"

XXXXXX

"Damn it!" Mason cursed as he forced his fighter out of the spin that the damaged launch rail had forced him into. _Well, I walked into that one,_ he thought bitterly as he put his jet into a dive to try and clear away from the Phantoms chasing him, weaving side to side to prevent them from firing their semi-active guided missiles. Taking on three jets at once was pushing it, and he knew it, but those Nimrods had to go down.

One of the Phantoms suddenly exploded and he saw who had fired the missile. Edge.

"_Edge, you are winchester - repeat, winchester!"_ Thunderhead reported as Mason pulled out of the dive and dodged left from the last Phantom.

_Great, one more missile to go…_ Mason thought as he saw the remaining Phantom lining up behind him again on radar.

"_Wardog Leader, head to bearing zero-eight-five and maintain a low altitude, we'll get him off of you!"_

"Roger that, _Kestrel_!" he called as he pulled up before he crashed into the ocean. "Edge, get that damn Nimrod!"

"_Nimrod down!"_ Chopper reported. _"But I'm almost dry, I've got maybe two seconds of gun left."_

Mason ignored that for now, focusing ahead as he shot towards the _Kestrel_'s battle group. The enemy frigates were engaging and closing in, deck guns from all sides firing away. One of the Osean frigates suffered an explosion in the rear, while one of the Yuke destroyers began to sink under heavy cannon fire.

"Blaze coming in hot!" he warned. "Edge, break off!"

"_Roger that. Phalanx fire, LET 'ER RIP!"_

As his jet shot past the _Kestrel_, from below the top deck that served as the carrier's landing strip two guns exploded to life, filling the air behind his jet with lead. The Phantom pulled out immediately before it opened fire as it's pilot recognized the trap it had flown into, but lost its quickly hole-filled left wing and spun out of control, the pilot and co-pilot bailing out and ejecting at a diagonal away from the Osean ships.

And as he shot past closer to the port, Mason let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said as he checked his stick. Sluggish, but still operable enough. He began to run through a plane check, making sure it could still maneuver as he gained altitude to rejoin the other two Wardogs above and looked down at the naval battle brewing below.

_And we said that all ship battles would be beyond visual range,_ he thought as he shook his head. The Osean fleet had pushed aggressively, but the blockade was pushing back just as hard and moving into close range. He was too high to see details, but the explosions were quite clear. And unfortunately, the ships were now too close for Wardog to be an effective way of drawing fire.

"_Wardog, listen up!" _Thunderhead ordered before he could really appreciate the sea battle going on below, _"the fight over the Port is subsiding, but we've more jets inbound for the _Kestrel._ Mostly Intruders with ammo to spare from their bombing runs."_

"Thunderhead, we've got one Sidewinder total and Chopper's almost out of guns, we can't do much more," he pointed out immediately, a sense of dread creeping up his spine. They were in no shape to go in again. He wasn't even sure how they were able to do as much damage as they had done. "We have to have some reinforcements here somewhere, right?"

"_The last of the reinforcements will be arriving shortly to help the _Kestrel_ plow through the blockade, but they're not going to be able to do air-to-air. We'll get as many fighters from the port over as we can, though."_

"_Thunderhead, Shorebirds are already en route,"_ Swordsman reported over the radio. _"ETA one and a half minutes!"_

"_Blaze,"_ Edge pointed out, _"we're in no shape to go in and your plane is damaged."_

"I know," he said as he closed his eyes. Ruthless calculus was coming into play. Three trainees against a whole carrier. "But we've got our orders."

"_This is Devastator Squadron, coming up from your south," _a loud voice cut into the radio. _"Carrier defense squadron do you read?"_

"Devastator, Wardog Four and acting leader, you mean the carrier's squadron or the one over it?"

"_The one over it. That you Wardog?"_

"Affirmative."

"_Right; we're inbound with some missiles to help the _Kestrel,_ but we need cover."_

"_What're we going to do, Blaze?"_ Edge asked.

He glanced at Devastator Squadron and almost swore. They had sent A-10 Warthogs? He was expecting Hornets or even Strike Eagles, something more naval based and with Harpoon anti-ship missiles, not the tough-as-tanks plane built to house a specific kind of gun. _They must have been scrambled last,_ he thought as he checked the incoming flight.

"Wardog, engage the Intruders first. Devastator, we've got another flight coming back to cover you, ETA under one minute."

"_Roger, Wardog. We're coming in hot. _Kestrel_, feed us targets, we'll engage as we can!"_

"Wardog, engage the Intruders!" Blaze ordered. "Chopper, hang back in reserve and catch whatever we miss, understood?"

"_Yeah, I'll play goalie,"_ he said as Mason and Edge's Tigers shot ahead of the formation and towards the first flight of Intruders coming in and he fought down a sigh. The A-6E Intruder used to be the Osean aircraft carrier ground attack jet of choice, but were retired before the Belkan War and Osea sold most of them to Yuktobania when the war began as a way to bolster the forces for the war. And now those same jets had been used to kill who knew how many Oseans.

The first group of three Intruders moved in and Mason locked onto the leader. "Fox Two and winchester!" he called as he released it. The Intruder saw it coming and evaded to the side, the missile missing but the resulting shrapnel hit the wings and one of the bombs it was carrying. Shooting past, he and Edge pulled around and dropped behind an Intruder each.

"_What the - Wardog, two Phantoms coming in for you! Look out!"_ Thunderhead warned as Mason shot at the leader and put several more holes into it's fuselage.

"Edge, break!" Mason ordered as he abandoned his attack snapped to the left, Edge to the right and diving. The Intruder he had aimed for pulled out of the attack, engines smoking badly and fire trailing from one, but the other two were still on.

"_Damn it!"_ Edge cursed. _"I just ran out of machine guns!"_

_And I only have a little left myself,_ he thought as he grit his teeth. "Bring your target over to me, I'll clear your six! Chopper, scare the Intruders!"

"_Hang on, I'll get him off you!"_

"Captain Snow?" he asked with a frown as he glanced behind him.

"_Fox Three!"_ A missile shot out from a Tomcat in the distance and chased the Phantom on his tail away as it moved to evade. He smiled.

"Edge, swing it around, Swordsman cleared me!"

"_Roger!"_ she answered as she pulled her plane around while the A-10s began their attack runs, launching their Maverick air-to-ground missiles from long range at the larger Yuke naval ships before moving in close with their heavy Gatling cannons to tear up the smaller frigates.

And as Edge passed by him, he aimed right for the Phantom in a head to head and squeezed down, shooting it and the air beyond as they flew by each other.

He turned around to get a better look at how that head to head hand ended. "Damn it, it's still airborne!" He aimed at the engines and squeezed on the trigger… and nothing. He was out of ammo.

"_Fox Two,"_ another voice cut in and a missile slammed into the Phantom, sending it tumbling into the ocean. One of Swordsman's wingmen had hit it.

"_Shorebirds, get in there!"_ Swordsman ordered and the three Tomcats remaining of that flight dove after the remaining Intruders.

"_Captain Snow, we entrust the sky to you,"_ Andersen said over the radio.

"_Roger, Captain Andersen. Wardog, are you okay?"_

"Chopper?"

"_Hosed one of the Intruders and knocked it out, and one of the Shorebirds got the other. But I'm dry,"_ he reported.

"Wardogs, check fuel." He glanced down and hissed. He was beyond joker fuel - fuel required to return and then have an extra pass or two if he failed. He wasn't even at bingo fuel - the minimum required to get back to Sand Island. Had he really lost track of his fuel during the fight? "Damn it, that's the dumbest mistake you could make Mason…" he muttered angrily to himself.

"_This is Edge, I'm at bingo fuel."_

"_Chopper, I'm just below it. Yeouch, we really screwed that one didn't we?"_

Mason sighed as the Shorebirds chased off the last of the Yuke Naval Air Force. "_Kestrel_, Wardog is out of ammo and fuel, I'm sorry we couldn't do more."

"_Understood Wardog, thank you for all you've done,"_ the _Kestrel's_ flight controller answered.

"_Hey, Wardog!"_ Swordsman called as the three remaining Shorebird Tomcats (one of which was leaking smoke from an engine) entered a holding pattern over their carrier as the last of the blockade began to melt away from the fight. _"You're all nuggets, right?"_

"Yes sir," he answered.

"_Nuggets who fight like fully trained pilots. That's Bartlett for you."_

"_Thank you, I… I think,"_ Edge said uneasily at the other flight lead's compliment.

"Right. Thunderhead this is Blaze; Wardog is going to need a tanker or an alternative landing site. We're either at bingo fuel or just below, repeat, bingo fuel or just below. We're not carrier trained, so the _Kestrel_ is not an option." It took a moment before the AWACS controller responded as the battle below began to subside.

"_Understood; we're moving a tanker over here from Granger Air Force Base to help others in a similar situation. Begin a heading at one-eight-four, I'll connect you to the tanker once it's airborne and get you all refueled."_

"Understood. Wardog, form up. We're heading back."

As the three formed up to leave, Captain Andersen's voice cut over the radio waves. _"This is Captain Andersen: our fleet has made it into open waters and the enemy is disengaging. My thanks to our brave warriors of the sea - and in the air."_

Mason simply sighed in relief and leaned back in the cockpit as the adrenaline began to ebb from his body, flying in the direction Thunderhead had told them to. He had made it.

"_One… two… three,"_ Chopper began counting. _"One… two… three. Hey, Blaze! Count 'em up! We're all coming back home! We're all coming back safe!"_

Mason glanced lazily to each side and allowed himself a faint smile. "We are. Well, that's good news for the Captain once he dries off, huh?"

"_Hell yeah!"_

They flew off, away from the devastation that had now officially opened the Circum-Pacific War. But as they flew away, Mason felt uneasy. Like he was back with Bartlett in a training jet and being scrutinized.

_Just fuel jitters,_ he eventually told himself as they approached the tanker aircraft to refuel.

XXXXXXXX

**1703 Hours**

**Sand Island - Hanger A**

As Kei brought her plane into the main hangar and finished the immediate post-flight checklist, she pushed the canopy open and slowly pushed herself out of the jet and onto the ladder that the mechanics had rolled up, slowly making it to the hangar floor. Chopper and Blaze had both already extracted themselves from their planes and Pops was there to meet them.

"How're you three feeling?" the mechanic asked as they all took their helmets off. "You came back dry and Blaze's wing is damaged."

"We took a few hard hits," Blaze admitted as he stuffed his helmet underneath his arm, "but we managed to get out alright."

"Also, congratulations," Pops said with a smile.

"For what?" she asked with a frown.

"The AWACS sent us your battle data. It's official - Blaze, Edge, you're both aces now. The Frogfoot you two took out together pushed both of you to five kills. It looks like _both_ of you are the first Osean aces since the Belkan War."

"Where's Captain Bartlett?" Kei demanded. This was something he should have been telling them, not Pops. Besides, the only reason it was possible was because of him, and he had taken a missile for her.

Pops' expression hardened and he looked down. "By the time the helicopter was out there, he was gone. The only thing left was an abandoned parachute and the retreating ship."

"WHAT?!" she shouted as Blaze and Chopper's jaws both dropped.

"When Perrault finally scrambled the Littlebird, Bartlett's beacon had gone out. They went out anyways - had to argue with Perrault to do it - but he was gone by the time they found what was left of his jet."

"That fucking oversized _asshole_!" Chopper snarled. "Lemme guess; he delayed just so he could get rid of Bartlett and lord it all over us!"

"Don't attribute to malice what incompetence covers," Pops immediately warned as Kei began to tune out the conversation as Blaze started to talk about wanting to sink the ship.

Bartlett was gone? She always knew that one day she'd be transferred somewhere else after finishing her training, but she never imagined that they would be alone like this. She shivered as the realization that they were now on their own hit her like a brick wall. They had been lucky over St. Hewlett; that would only get them so far.

Before, they could at least count on Bartlett's help. They were able to defend themselves, but in the end they were still technically trainees. Trainees pressed to active duty weeks ahead of schedule, but trainees none the less. Were they ready to be an independent squadron?

"Hey, Nagase!" Pops called loudly. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," she automatically said as she brushed her free hand through her hair. "Just… surprised."

He nodded slowly. "Look, Bartlett had high expectations for you three. And I don't mean him grinding you to the nose in flight school - he outright told me that if he had to pick three trainees, you three were it."

"Wait, are you saying he wanted us to be the survivors?" Chopper asked, staring at the mechanic.

"Of course not!" Pops retorted. "He wanted everyone to survive! Aero, Cavalier, Jive, even Barney! But if he had to pick three pilots, you three were the ones he believed had the ability to go far. Who could survive without him."

"Sorry, but right now…" Blaze started before trailing off.

"I know," Pops said as he turned and put a hand on his shoulder. "This is just the start of everything. Now, go get your flight gear off and get some food. You guys have been in your planes since this morning. I'll handle the plane checks and ready them for the next sortie. And if you see Grimm, tell him that I need to talk to him."

Kei nodded before walking out of the hanger as Pops called his crew to get to work and ordered them to ready another set of Sidewinders to load onto their jets.

XXXXXX

**1718 Hours**

**Sand Island - Mess Hall**

Albert glanced to the pilot sitting across from him. Not one of the Wardogs, but the lone member of Replacement Pilot Training on Sand Island. Hans "Archer" Grimm, light skinned like the rest of the squadron, just with a reddish brown hair color and looking far too young to be a fighter pilot.

"And you want to ask me questions?" Grimm asked in surprise.

"You're one of Bartlett's trainees," Albert answered with a shrug. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I guess," he said uncertainly. "So uh, what do you want to know?"

"How about why you joined?"

"My brother, really. He always kept an eye on me even when me and my family were in the camp…"

The trainee cut himself off as mess hall suddenly grew silent. The door had opened and three pilots stepped in. The three who had gone to St. Hewlett. They stayed together, getting their food before sitting down together and quietly eating.

Albert fought down the urge to go talk to them. They had just come back from what the news had clearly reported was a lot of damage. The only upside, it seemed, was that the _Kestrel_ had escaped. Supposedly without a scratch, but it was too soon for official statements on the events that had gone on.

"It's a bit daunting," Grimm said. "I mean, I'm supposed to join them? Or was, I guess…"

"Worried about being dead weight?"

"Basically. You know that saying about how some gun is better than no gun? Well, no pilot is better than a bad pilot who needs to be babysat. If they have to focus on keeping me alive..."

Albert simply nodded as the door opened again and Perrault marched in, Hamilton behind him carrying a pair of CD cases.

"_Listen up people!"_ Perrault shouted. "You've all heard the news, but I think it's time you saw it yourself. Yuktobania's declaration of war. Pay attention, people, this is why the enemy was stupid enough to take action against us! Captain Hamilton?"

"Sir," the base adjutant coldly acknowledged as he walked over to the mess hall's TV and the hybrid DVD/Video Tape player that was connected to it. Ejecting the disc that had been left in from the movie that the maintenance crew had watched last night, Hamilton switched the discs and carefully put the movie in a spare CD case he had brought along.

As soon as the DVD was read by the player, the screen blinked to show a Yuktobanian general standing in front of their parliament. Albert recognized him immediately: General Stagleishov of the Yuktobanian Air Force, who was well known for his dissatisfaction with the Belkan War's resolution. The general began to speak, but the voice quickly cut as a translator replaced the audio.

"_This is a dark day in our history, for today Yuktobania has been forced to the field of warfare,"_ the general began. _"For fifteen years, Osea spat upon the friendship offered to it against the threat of Belka fifteen years ago..."_ the entire speech paused, along with the screen.

Albert glanced over and saw that Perrault was holding the remote. "Correction, we've been way too nice to those vodka-drinkers." He hit a button on the remote.

"_... and allowed their ingratitude to persist as a result of the suffering on their soil. Now, however, Osea has brazenly insulted our sovereignty and these insults can no longer be ignored! First, Osea hoarded the tech gained in the Belkan War, denying us the due of the blood we spilled in their trenches!"_ The speech was paused.

"Correction, they had their share of the tech in accordance with the treaty. Where else did they get those stupid heat dampeners?"

_They got them along with the rest of the Allied Forces_, Albert silently noted as Perrault unpaused the speech.

"_Second, they have kept exclusive access to the Arkbird and the capabilities of arming it! Yet it was Yuktobanian skill that made it's key duty possible!"_

"Correction, Osea was responsible for much of the Arkbird and it's mission of mercy in orbit. Weaponizing it is not solely Osea's perogatory."

Albert noticed Edge glaring at the colonel angrily, silently noting that the Arkbird was a joint project - Yuktobania provided the laser system to clear out the Ulysses asteroid fragments still in orbit. But at the same time, the Arkbird's primary control and resupply facilities were on Osean soil and under the OSDF's jurisdiction.

"_Third, and most grievously, their marines have kidnapped our Prime Minister, Seryozha Nikanor! Abducting him from his home as he prepared to sign off on an acknowledgement of the years of peace between our peoples!"_

That sent a ripple of chatter through the mess hall and Albert stared at the screen. Osean commandos had abducted the Prime Minister?

"That makes no sense!" Grimm muttered.

"Pipe down! Obviously a load of crock," Perrault snarled.

"_And in the last three days, their base of Sand Island has killed a whole squadron's worth of our brave Air Force pilots, who were simply doing duty to nation and family! Now, citizens of the Yuktobanian Republics, we shall strike back at the Oseans who have wronged us, reclaim our rightful due for our sacrifices years ago, and reclaim our stolen Prime Minister!"_

There was a mixed reaction on the recording, which was immediately paused by the Colonel. But Genette could see in the rims of the cameras several Yuktobanian representatives rising in protest rather than joining the applause.

"As you can see, our enemy hates us for our success," Perrault began. "And are hiding it by claiming that our self defense against their blatant intrusions was us murdering them. We are Osea's vanguard, people. There will be no tolerance for slacking anymore. You do your duties, or you're stuck looking at minimum wage for the rest of your life. And that's if I'm feeling kind." He paused and looked around. "Nothing more. Back to your duties!"

The overweight officer walked out as Hamilton removed the DVD of the declaration of war, leaving Albert looking around. He could see the three Wardogs looking at each other, muttering quietly to each other, faces stricken. _Do they think themselves responsible?_ Albert wondered as he pushed himself up from his seat and walked over.

"No, we were defending ourselves," Blaze was saying as Albert walked over. "They're whitewashing it for propaganda, they can't well admit that they were provo…. ah, Genette, how can we help you?"

"I don't suppose any of you want to make a comment, for the article?" he asked. "I know this is a little sudden, but… you saw the start of the war. What do you think each of us, on the home front, can do to end this war?"

The three looked at each other quietly before Nagase finally spoke. "I guess for now, each one of us must continue to think about the best course of action we can take." With that, she stood up with her half-finished meal, put it in with the rest of the finished trays, and went through the door to the crew quarters.

Blaze sighed. "This is going to get a lot worse before it gets better..." he glanced over towards where Grimm was and stood. "Excuse me," he said. Albert nodded as Wardog's number four pilot went to talk to the trainee.

"Come by my room later," Chopper said. "Sorry, but… I need to sort through things before I'm really ready to talk."

"Of course," he said with a nod as Blaze returned, Grimm leaving the mess hall behind them. "And you, Lieutenant?"

"No offense, but I'd rather wait as well. See what Command thinks is classified or not." He glanced at the clock. "... should probably call my mother too, let her know I'm alright. Assuming we're still allowed to…"

XXXXXX

**1805 Hours**

**Sand Island - Crew Quarters**

"Hey Kid," Chopper said and Mason looked up from his bunk as the number three pilot of Wardog walked in.

"You could've knocked," he retorted as he sat up. "What is it?"

"How… how did you ignore that sight? The people burning in the waves." Chopper's face was stricken.

"I didn't," he admitted as he glanced away towards his desk. "I just focused on what I could do: saving the _Kestrel_. Probably the same thing Edge did."

"It can't be that easy," the larger pilot said as he pulled up a chair and sat in it.

"No, it isn't," Mason answered as he shivered. "But if we lock up, we'll end up like that or worse, get others killed. That's why boot camp hammered us so much about not thinking about the enemy as people."

"True," Chopper admitted. "But… I can't get it out of my head. And well… _I'm_ the one who caused it! I shot that MiG down and let it fall!"

"That Yuke was trying to kill you," he immediately pointed out as he finally understood what was getting at the pilot. "And if he succeeded or just decided to move on, he probably would have killed others too."

"But I shot him down right into those sailors! Right into the guy who saved my ass just a minute earlier!"

"You can't control where an enemy jet lands. A jet goes down, and someone's day is inevitably going to be wrecked. Why do you think we try to avoid engaging over urban areas if we can help it?" Mason paused to let that sink in before continuing. "Look, you shot the guy down. Maybe you could have put a few more rounds in him to keep him from controlling his descent, maybe it would have just wasted your ammo and left the _Kestrel_ without someone covering it." He pushed himself up and looked down at Chopper.

"We can't deal with 'what if' or 'maybe I could have', at least not now. You were defending yourself. It was the Yuke pilot who decided to kill a bunch of people in lifejackets trying to survive."

Chopper shifted uncomfortably and the room remained silent for a couple minutes before the older pilot finally sighed. "Yeah, I guess," he finally said. "I dunno, feels like a shitty way to do our job of covering people."

Mason simply nodded in agreement. "But you were trying to cover them. Really, it speaks volumes about you and that pilot. He got shot down, he decided to attack people just trying to get off their burning ship or were defenseless. You pulled past your own horror and kept going."

"Heh," Chopper scoffed, "Lemme guess, the real test will be when I have to put it down?"

Mason paused uncomfortably at the thought, but before he could muster an answer Chopper had already left the room.

XXXXXXX

**1915 Hours**

**Sand Island - Hanger B**

"Edge?"

Kei looked up at Pops and nodded. "I'm just here to check on my plane," she explained and the mechanic nodded.

"It's over there," he said as he nodded over to where it was. "Moved it over here so I could check some of the details while Grimm's helping."

"Grimm?" she asked dumbfounded just before she heard an engine powering up and turned to where the sound was coming from.

"He's helping me with Bartlett's spare plane," Pops explained. "Okay Grimm, how're the turbines?"

"Good!" the replacement pilot called. "Everything looks steady, fuel's going normally!"

"Why're you prepping his fighter?" she asked. "He's… he's not available anymore."

"Captain's orders," Pops said evasively before gesturing towards her plane, which had six new Sidewinder missiles loaded on. The arming pins had been left in, however, ready to be pulled for an emergency launch if something happened. "Anyways, I wanted to talk to you guys. New planes."

"What do you mean?" she asked with a frown.

"Look, you've done well in these Tigers, but their age is catching up to them fast. You need something newer. Fresh airframes, more advanced electronics. These things have been in use since they were first used by Osea."

She paused; she had never thought about that. "How long do you think they'll last?"

"In combat?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hard to say, it depends on how much damage you take and how many replacement parts we get. There's only so much of a beating they can take before the airframes just give. But at some point, you'll need something new."

"Won't we get new planes when we're assigned to a combat squadron?" After all, Wardog was a training unit, with its graduates moving on to other units once finished.

"Normally, yes, but I have a feeling that Wardog is going to be changed from an auxiliary training unit to a frontline force quite soon."

Kei remained quiet as Pops lead her to the plane and put a hand on the fuselage where most pilots painted their kills.

"War always starts suddenly, then halts," he said. "You dive in or rush to react, fight hard to just survive, and then you have the time to sit back and understand what happened. So, how're you holding up?"

"Well enough," she said as she opened the access to the machine gun to check it. Fully loaded. "A bit tired, though."

"You'll get used to the long flights," he said as Grimm was talking with another mechanic to continue their checks on Bartlett's spare plane. "They'll get even longer, too. Make sure you bring something to keep you from getting bored in flight; that's the worst thing that could happen to a pilot in an overseas trip."

"Overseas?" she turned sharply. "As in, Yuktobania?"

"If we're at war with them, anything is possible. President Harling might prefer to play defensive, but even he knows that to really hammer home a defense, you need to take out the bases they launched from."

She nodded slowly. A quick strike to prevent more attacks on Osean territory made sense. "Right. And hope we don't have to invade them properly…"

Pops nodded. "Also, you better start thinking about nose art. You're getting to the stage where pilots start putting on the decals. Since you aren't putting your kills on…"

"I'll think of something," she said evasively.

"Good," he said when a loud noise suddenly cut whatever train of thought he had off.

XXXXXXX

**1927 Hours**

**Sand Island - Crew Quarters**

"Who will be the flight lead tomorrow?" Chopper asked incredulously as he looked at the journalist. "I wouldn't worry about that if I were you." He dropped down on the couch and sighed in relief as the CD player was blaring with one of his favorite records. Kirk sat down at his feet as he looked towards Genette.

"We're an auxiliary squadron, you know," he elaborated, "so his highness, the Lieutenant-Colonel, will just come in from the mainland and take over. That's all." He leaned back with a sigh. "Whew, I _love_ this sound! Calms me down… I just might sleep well tonight!"

"I heard that the one who broke the Captain's heart fifteen years ago was a recon major in the Yuke army," Genette said loudly to be heard over the music.

"Yeah, I did my history homework," he answered as he pushed himself forward. "We were allies back then. Man, the base commander sure wasn't being subtle about making accusations! Ahem," he coughed into his hand and put his left hand behind his back. "'_Was there anything suspicious about the Captain's behavior_', he says! Hell, I'm more suspicious of the screw in his damn head!"

"Why would Bartlett be considered a Yuke spy?" Genette asked, frowning as the music hit its chorus.

"_Can you take it all the way / can you take it all the way / just shove it in my face…"_

"Hey, he thought you were a spy when you were just doing your damn job! Parachute that happens to push you towards an enemy ship is treason by that standard, forget the wind! I wouldn't look too far into it; it's been fifteen years, I doubt those two kept in touch."

"Maybe," Genette said with a shrug when the alarm suddenly went off.

Chopper groaned, hands in his face and falling onto the couch. "Ugh, an air raid? Are you kidding me? Gimmie a break man…"

XXXXXXX

**1930 Hours**

**Sand Island - Hanger B**

"Take some of the spare flight gear in the C-130 and get in the air!" Pops shouted as the siren cut through the hanger. "Go!"

Kei didn't think, she sprinted for the transport jet and ripped the door open, grabbing a spare suit and an unmarked helmet, slipping it on as she hurried back to her jet. Pops was barking orders to his crew as she got back.

"What about the others?" she asked. Blaze and Chopper were both in the crew quarters still.

"Get in the air, you'll have to cover them so they can take off," Pops answered as a pair of mechanics quickly pulled the arming pins from the Sidewinders. "Here, lemme give you a boost…"

She nodded as he crouched down, lifting a foot for him to grab and using her other to jump up with his push to get her into her fighter's cockpit and running through the preflight checklist as fast as she could.

"Okay," she said as she finished and activated the turbines, "Wardog Two to Control Tower - I'm taxiing onto the runway now: requesting permission to launch!"

"_Permission granted Edge, protect our base!"_ the control tower operative called as an MIM-72 Chaparral was being rolled past the hanger as the base security forces were hurriedly getting its missile system active. An old relic from the cold war with Yuktobania… now being used to fight the enemy it was intended to battle. As she reached the runway, she realized that there was something poetic about the fact that a technically retired piece of equipment was now Osea's first line of defense.

"_Enemy will arrive in three minutes on vector… uh… two-six-niner. And… first wave is a flight of Fishbeds!"_ the control tower warned. _"Edge, be careful!"_

"Roger!" she answered as she shoved the throttle to full. "Pops?"

"_Do what you can but _stay alive_! Your job is to make sure Blaze and Chopper can get airborne, understood?"_

"Edge copies. Tower, do we have _any_ support?"

"_The Lieutenant-Colonel, maybe,"_ the controller answered as she lifted off. _"Otherwise it's up to you guys!"_

"Pops, what about the Captain's spare plane?"

"_Don't worry about it, focus on staying alive!"_ the mechanic answered. _"Hang on, I need to help Blaze and Chopper!"_

She nodded slowly as the first wave of enemy fighters was approaching as she entered a holding pattern over the base, waiting for the right moment to engage. Taking on four Fishbeds alone was suicide, so she waited to give the ground a chance to help.

"_Jericho Two launching missile!"_

As the Fishbeds approached the perimeter of Sand Island and she accelerated towards them, the flight split as the anti-aircraft fire from the ground opened up, a missile from a Chaparral spiraling into the air and hitting the leader as the rest of the formation broke.

"Edge, engaging!"

She dove after one that was flying towards the main hanger, dropping in behind it as the pilot realized she was there. The Fishbed abandoned the attack and started to evade, pulling away from the base and weaving side to side. She slid her finger to the gun trigger and squeezed down, firing the cannons and a few rounds hit the wing but did minimal damage. The pilot still broke towards the west and she disengaged.

"_This is Captain Hamilton to all ground forces: Screen the runway. Wardog Squadron, get in the air NOW! The main wave is approaching as we speak!"_

She flew past the hanger as one of the Fishbeds dropped behind her and fired a missile. She pulled up hard to the right and decelerated, praying that the pilot did not match her move perfectly. The plane shook as several bullets hit her left wing, but the Fishbed had shot past her and she was now on its tail as she pushed the throttle back up.

"_Chopper, hurry up and take off!"_ Blaze shouted as she dropped in behind her target as it was turning back around towards Sand Island. _"I'm stuck right behind you!"_

"_The turbines won't start up!"_ Chopper answered. _"Come on, come on, come on!"_

"Edge, Fox Two!" she warned as she released a missile from the left launch rail. The Fishbed pilot tried to evade, but made his maneuver too soon and the missile was just able to compensate, exploding off its left side and sending it spiraling into the runway.

"Shit shit shit!" she cursed as it crashed into one of the army trucks that had been driving past the two grounded Wardogs.

"_Whoa!"_ Chopper shouted as the fireball erupted from the impact. _"Damn it, come on - THERE we go! Chopper, taking off!"_

"Got it, I'll cover you two." she warned as she dropped behind the last Fishbed still in the air over Sand Island when one of the Chaparrals hit it with a missile.

"_The first enemy wave has passed by! Blaze, Chopper, launch now before they can bounce you on takeoff!"_

"_Roger that Pops. Blaze taking off!"_

Kei exhaled as she watched the two taking off and checked her radar. At least a dozen contacts incoming in the next wave, being joined by the surviving Fishbed.

And there were only three of them to hold them all off along with any anti-air Sand Island had. If there was anything out there to help them, they were going to need it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**End Chapter**

Author's Notes:

_- I originally wanted to integrate more of the St. Hewlett attack dialogue like the crews panicking, commentary about a barge needing to get out of the way, one guy using Phalanx fire right into the docks, etc., but I just couldn't weave it in. So, I left it with the one memorable 'not a drill' line and focused on Wardog since this is their story._

_- Why does Swordsman have wingmen? Well… it doesn't make sense for him to be the only jet from the _Kestrel_ and he's described as being part of Shorebird Squadron. So why not give him some wingmen to flesh out the Osean numbers when the _Kestrel_ is around?_

_- Now, anyone who's played or watched First Flight probably recalls Edge being the first one off. However, it also had fighter jets duking it out over you while Chopper has problems getting his turbine to start, which are nowhere to be seen in actual gameplay. Well, I'm not copying the games 1:1, and it seemed like an appropriate thing to do. Especially with the conversation between Pops and Edge._

- _As a note - the MIM-92 Chaparral was retired by the US back in '98. The idea was that Sand Island has a lot of old hand-me-downs since they're a training base. Plus, I always liked that missile truck… (I blame World in Conflict)_


End file.
